When I think what could have come of us, If I’d have seen better things instead and the days hadn't seemed quite so dark, close to the border and nothing feels real anymore. The last light, and hallowed hollow of your words To find a subtle humor as I step towards that line
You perceived it with patience but powerless to inherit your father’s line Shaped to befit his cadence and introspect hard to resist but ill-consigned
(It’s not the point of it It’s just the truth And that is all I want for you)