My dad was full of spirit,
My dad was full of dreams,
My dad was full of love,
My dad was full of smoke.
My dad was full of alcohol.
My dad was full of strength.
My dad was full of so many things
but the only thing that remained,
was his addiction for numbness
And his hatred.
And his mistakes.
When you remember though,
it's like you're there again
embracing his leg
when he got home from work,
smelling of iron, beer, and dust
And the memories, they can kill you
They shine so bright
that you forget all the grotesque shadows of the past
You feel his blood, his DNA
course through your veins
He understood me.
I understood him.
We were a couple of addictive freaks,
with no hope left.
So how could I hate a man who hugged me?
How could I hate a man who hit me?
How could I hate a man who checked for monsters under my bed?
How could I hate a man who threatened to kill me?
How could I hate a man who sang The Beatles to me?
And the phantoms of the past are still there,
lingering and haunting me at night.
But how could I hate a man,
who shared my own flesh and blood.