| I remember '98 like the breath before this one
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| March 6th
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| My Dad’s death was commissioned
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| Screams from the room to the left of the kitchen were manufactured to make the
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| deaf wanna listen
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| His skin and liver got cancer
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| The kidneys got it after
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| The latter was the lungs filling with plasma three times faster than his bladder
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| While I slept in the same room and acted like the matter never mattered
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| Teaspoonfuls of morphine everyday between two full moons for four weeks
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| Poor me
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| I could barely afford sleep while the screams stormed rained razors in your
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| boy’s dreams at fourteen
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| I was listening
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| I’ve never seen change as quick as this
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| Must have been some sort of cosmic trick
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| 'Cause I was sent to live with him for discipline
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| Momma got her wish
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| And now he’s a walking stick
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| His feet swelled 'til his house shoes decided not to fit
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| I was smoking pot an awful not, and not a bit
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| And cigarettes
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| I started with a box of his that he left in the glove box once he’d gotten sick
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| We only got a two month head up
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| The first one was hospital visits
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| The next one was a back full of bedsores
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| His legs numb with bloody lips and a cancer smell
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| And I’m sad as hell
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| I wish I heard the stories he never had a chance to tell
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| But now he’s gone insane from the tumor in his brain
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| His sisters watch his Mom in pain whisper, «not again»
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| Every-night he asks for help
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| On that day he got his way my Grandpa, Aunt, and I watched him scream the whole
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| evening
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| If I’m not mistaken I think I seen his soul leaving
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| The next thing I know I’m on the phone speaking to my mother
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| Telling her the whole thing and my eyes gush mid-sentence for seemingly no
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| reason
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| We could have overflowed a stream for the whole season
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| And then I’m on the porch slow breathing
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| Thinking, «why'd you die tonight?»
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| Eyes too dry to cry
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| Two homies came by not to get me high to my surprise
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| I sacked it up
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| Right when I had enough of acting tough, I asked who had the blunt?
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| The answer was, «quit pretending like it’s all good and gravy, acting cool,
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| I’d be going crazy»
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| So I told them, «we were never close but lately, just maybe, this experience
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| helped raised me
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| And at least I got to learn that my father was a car salesman who could play
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| any instrument by ear
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| We’d go fishing, buy beef jerky, coca-cola, and dry beer
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| He taught me how to stay warm in the cold and couple of life game codes
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| And at least made me make plans to get past 39 years old» |