Is there something I'm forgetting
I can't seem to read my writing
I know I scribbled this note
The letters make shapes but the words are torn
I keep riffling through these pages
There's been no sense in here for ages
I raised a son who's kind to daughters
He broke as many hearts as his father once did
I hope that when we meet
I'm seen as a man not a dad to defeat
I can't think of what his name is
Or where I'd find the home to reach him
There must be some way for me
To keep what little's left
Or take it in one sweep
This trickle is killing me
I have a wife who knows me better
Than the words I could ever think to tell her
Would she think less of me
If I told her she's aged years in weeks
I don't know why she even bothers
Or how she came to make me honest
There must be some way for me
To keep what little's left
Or take it in one sweep
This trickle is killing me
Am I doing better
I haven't felt myself in days
I've been away
And I keep finding that I make mistakes
I guess this is what old age is
But I don't feel as though I've aged yet
