this is your dad…

still get these messages in the middle of the night…

this is your dad…just wonderin’ where you are…call me…

and…i’d pour a whisky…smell cigarettes burned from earlier…listen to the message again…

this is your dad…just wonderin’ where you are…call me…

but…there wouldn’t be a call…took another long drink…wonder myself…wonder myself…

why me…this youngest son who left home early…questioned you again and again and again…found no comfort in a house built…with dollars and cents…dollars and cents…

never an embrace…of love…this was not spoken…guilting demands of respect…no example set…do as told…today’s youth would not understand…

trying to sleep next to my lover…whose body is warm…comforting…i am haunted…

this is your dad…just wonderin’ where you are…call me…

can’t…i simply cannot call…any other man in need would be reached for…assured of safety…but not him…not him…

this is your dad…just wonderin’ where you are…call me…

shhh….shhh…

pour some more…forget of this ghost…

your job is done…

tis done…

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