In the soil of the richest land lies beneath a boiling frying pan
Explosive not like eggs hammer out a shoot
Not manmade, nor made of man
When the boiling bubbles blister through
...
It’s a dark day, frigid and wet outside
Inside the musk of dander and smoke soar
The ceiling, little one sleeps, ill implied
By the quiet notions of grief endured
...
Many days have gone by since you left; many tears have fallen since your death
Remembering you is sometimes hard, but not remembering you would be harder
I can’t help but laugh, sigh, and cry, for you were a comedian and full of life
When I think about you, I often get sad, but then I remember, you were my dad
...
How is it we find ourselves where we currently stand?
Is it the things we told ourselves and the mistakes that we transcend?
Or maybe it’s a will of another whether we believe it or not
Either way it’s kind of funny to find ourselves in this knot
...