Of the things that have made me, I count myself lucky
I consider it fortune, the things like how I wasn't taught
At a young age to respect my elders
Thank goodness for my absence of a father.
He could have taken me out, we'd have gone camping
I could have learned to wield my body as a weapon
These are things that I won't be missing
I remember sittin' in the car with my dirty old man
As he explained how she had asked for it
And how it was her fault
I'm only glad I didn't take the bait
Well, I remember telling my mother
It was the last time I saw my father
No regrets for what else I've been missing
'Cause I'm not jealous of a well adjusted family,
Only killing time 'til they learn their anomaly
Don't help the wounded ones: the children of the vengeful father
When everyone I know is still standing in the shadows of
The men who left their mark, I'd rather be left in the dark
If our fathers were our role models for God and they failed us,
What does that tell us about our supposed omnipotent savior?
Except we're all born to fiction, daily recreated
We play the roles from the stories we learned as kids
Who bends down? Who plays God? Is it fated
Every boy on this earth should have his head stuck up his ass?
We're all just like our dads, we keep learning the same shit again
And I wonder how long 'til it ends
Well I remember when my dirty old man told me how I'd grow up
To be just like him when I got old
What a bizarre thing to be told, to be told