Most women eventually turn into their mothers.
I'm becoming my dad,
To the point of developing prostrate cancer,
And I think I know it's cause.
For I've fallen supine, too many occasions,
Worshiping idols and graven images—
Things like diplomas and retirement packages.
Yes I've prayed to a god who is dead,
And one entirely made of pulp,
I've followed the prophets so false.
But now I will say that my father's house,
Builded by leaving the crowds' conformity,
I now seek as a comfort and stay.
And I will lie slain in the spirit of the legacy
I'm becoming my dad,
To the point of developing prostrate cancer,
And I think I know it's cause.
For I've fallen supine, too many occasions,
Worshiping idols and graven images—
Things like diplomas and retirement packages.
Yes I've prayed to a god who is dead,
And one entirely made of pulp,
I've followed the prophets so false.
But now I will say that my father's house,
Builded by leaving the crowds' conformity,
I now seek as a comfort and stay.
And I will lie slain in the spirit of the legacy
Of my sons' memories of me loving them more,
And of me receiving their love unconditionally,
In whatever ways that they are able to offer it.
In whatever ways that they are able to offer it.
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