Mike

Every generation Blames the one before And all of their frustrations Come beating on your door I know that I’m a prisoner To all my Father held so dear I know that I’m a hostage To all his hopes and fears I just wish I could have told him in the living years Crumpled bits of paper Filled with imperfect thoughts Stilted conversations I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got You say you just don’t see it He says it’s perfect sense You just can’t get agreement In this present tense We all talk a different language T