Daddy's Stage

I hear, visually,
the sound of the sad cries,
and the mom suffers,
as the dad dies.

Inside himself
he feeds the tears with rage.
Blame.
Aimed.
At the past.

Someone tell him that this can't be changed.
Someone tell him to turn the page.
Tell him to stop feeding tears with rage.

It's all gone. The end of the song.
Cry all you want, even all day long.

The song will never play again.

The tears won't stop.
They begin to roll.
Down daddy's face.
They take their toll.

Or better yet
their position.
Hear me out.

That song is gone.
Cry all you want.
Even all day long.

The song will never play again.

Even if you hear it again.
It won't be the same.
The past is the past.
And you put it to shame.

Pointing the blame.
That finger aimed.
At the man in your life that gave you your name.

I'll turn the page.
And write a new song.
One that we could both sing all day long.

It's the end of the blame.
The end of the shame.
You are the man that gave me my name.

I am youre son.
I have no rage.
I'll take my place.
Right here on this stage.