Once when I was young and my father was old
I treasured his moments with me though no longer
Did i wish i could cuddle him.
I was blind as to the reasons of my life
And there again was he looking at me before I did wrong
studying my misdemeanour.
But now when i aarive he is dead to my presence
feeling nought 'cept lonely regret
I abandon my belief in mother as he sits prone and alone.
Could I be a better me, and he waits.
