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Walking dead on two burned feet
Do you have anything left to say to me?
From barber chairs and baseball gloves
To calling names and slaps and drugs
From, "Son, you could have been someone"
To "Hey there, meet my only son"

Lost in the mail for a convenient month
A graduation unattended, five hundred miles, five hundred days
We'll never talk, let's count the ways we fake it over every break
And you kick yourself for making this mistake

Actions dismantle litigation
I thought this would be easier for me
Another forced smile on vacation
Another disappointment paves itself into a two-way street

And I see you inside myself, I want to climb out of my skin
I see you in myself every day and once again
I was your worst mistake, your connection to a 30 year hate
I tried hard not to believe it, I'll try harder not to feel it

So here's to you

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