| Dear Pop,
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| The fear stopped me from saying this before,
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| But I’m grown up.
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| So, I’mma lay it on the floor.
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| It’s time to own up,
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| You’re pumping your liver with liquor.
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| I shiver.
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| You’re getting sicker.
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| Swallowing liquor.
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| Slivers.
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| Drowning in whiskey rivers.
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| For ten years,
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| I let it fly.
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| But wings clip,
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| Flight risk.
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| Can’t live to watch you die like this.
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| And I remember when I was kid,
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| Looking for my dad.
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| But all day he’s busy.
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| 7 P.M. |
| hits,
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| With the whiskey on your plus.
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| From a small boy dizzy,
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| Got the fam sayin', «Who is he?»
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| Then the hour glass cracked.
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| Matched with the sour man’s Jack.
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| How is that trapped, dad?
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| Are you on your last lap?
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| Trying to tap dance between crack and a flask?
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| I remember when we packed in that van down to Florida.
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| Mom said you was a goner.
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| Call the coroner.
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| She said you loved that whore more than her.
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| I sat stirred.
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| Like what the fuck is Lady Luck provin'?
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| You moved in,
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| With that 86 proof man.
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| Actually mixing your solution.
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| That battery of my disillusion.
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| And I know this is useless,
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| So be it with the rest.
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| But I had to get it off my head,
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| And out of my chest.
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| And I’m watching you washing it down.
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| Watching you drown.
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| Lost in the now,
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| Lost in the then.
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| Trying to find a zen with a frostbitten frown.
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| Every night you left your son behind the hearse,
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| But instead of the hurt
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| I learned how to move up.
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| Sky wise,
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| Nowadays I stop by.
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| I see the same eyes,
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| Rolled back in your eyelids passed out.
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| Man down.
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| I’m a man screamin' silent in this glasshouse.
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| I didn’t want to make a sound because I’m that proud.
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| But I’m tryin' to be a man.
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| Plus tryin' to find my dad some land to land.
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| Because he’s drowning in
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| Jack Dan quicksand.
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| Doin' all he can
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| To keep the fam together.
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| Plus stand the weather.
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| Dad, I understand the pressure.
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| Tryin' to the pay the bills
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| Plus kill life’s ills.
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| Out of that fraction,
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| None of that mattered.
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| We needed a role model,
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| Not a robot who holds bottles.
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| Just to chase the day,
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| I hate to see you waste away.
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| Your face decays and fades to gray.
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| But damn dad,
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| You’re the greatest man I know when you’re sober.
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| But I’ve watched you transform into a king cobra,
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| Once that drink soak up in your blood.
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| And I’m proud to be your son,
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| But I can’t act passive.
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| Can’t stand back.
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| Or laugh at it.
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| The sad fact is that we all addicts.
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| You got one wife who’s heart’s broken.
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| Two sons pot smokin'.
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| One daughter out rollin'.
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| Four people that knew you before you got loaded.
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| It might be a lost notion, but it’s time to stop smokin'.
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| You gotta a bottle of Jack in a bleeding hand.
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| It’s osmosis through a decent man.
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| You used to read it dad,
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| 'Hop On Pop',
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| Now you’re lost on scotch.
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| Sad dad,
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| Bad had.
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| My last gasp,
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| But I’m through with it.
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| I just wish that you could quit.
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| It’s a bad taste,
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| And I’m watching you washing it down.
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| Watching you drown.
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| Lost in the now,
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| Lost in the then.
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| Trying to find a zen with a frostbitten frown.
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| See it’s a bad taste,
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| And I’m watching you washing it down.
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| Watching you drown.
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| Lost in the now,
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| Lost in the then.
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| Trying to find a zen with a frostbitten frown. |