The son of a son with horrors worn on his back.
The last son
Of a dying name
We can never win
We just play the game
A daughter of a son of a dying breed
A daughter of a wish and
The denile of a man’s dreams
To be more than a 6 of clubs and 2 of spades
To be the house instead
But that will never happen
Since the daughter keeps trying to find a fruitless dream
And the father is still the lesser hand
Child wishes to fly
But ends up grounded by reality
For the land is not apart of the child
But the child is apart of the land
Replies
Come here darling go swallow your pride
You or your kids
You need to decide
But now I see
All they want is
Money
Then here you were, you twenty four
All they deem they see is Baby making whore
You still in that rusty evening gown
Right above your knee
Worse than ever
Your dollars turning into dimes
Brown starting to gray
And skin starting to thin