Father Figure(less) is the third song from my debut album "A Graveyard, A Garden."
You can follow along with the lyrics and listen here: https://introvert.bandcamp.com/track/father-figure-less
His eyes wander from his son to the floorboards.
The cracks collect the battle cries, bottle always wins the war
waged against himself. His hands shake, his brow sweats,
the minute hand ignites the kerosene that lingers on his breath.
Looks to the wedding band, a reminder of regrets.
He takes a shot of Jack and chases with a second guess.
It’s frustrating listening to life’s somber cadence
clutching at the walls, the walking gets complicated.
Now the world that he created doesn’t spin like it used to.
Design he had in mind dissipates in the rear view.
The past presents a parable for how to flee the scene,
decoding the moment, determine what it means.
Now he can’t see the future, all he sees is the front door
leading toward the sunrise and escape that it stands for.
And as he steps into the light and fresh air hits his lungs,
he makes the center of the universe his none and only son.
I was the rope that you tied around your back, and
You were the rope that I tied around my neck.
The shadows of the gallows is still stalking my past.
Just an old unholy ghost haunting family photographs.
I was the rope that you tied around your back.
You were the rope that I tied around my neck.
The shadow of the gallows is still stalking my past.
Just an old unholy ghost haunting family photographs.
I heard a whisper in the wind and spent my life trying to find it,
but absence is the sincerest form of silence.
After distancing myself, I found, despite what I envisioned
predispositions are the only proof that he ever existed.
Persistence of indifference. Harsh tug toward his sickness.
One too many shaking hands and far too many symptoms.
Abandonment found a home inside my bones to live in
when I gazed into the mirror and knew only of the image
I was made in: open lips begging for another drink
broken glass left on the floor, vomit in the kitchen sink,
a dizzy step away from all the selfish things I say,
and the urge to run merged sharply in my DNA.
And I cannot escape the skin that I was given,
stretching over hollow bones and all your indecision.
Two bodies at a table with a setting made for three.
I didn’t learn to love. I learned how to leave.
I was the rope that you tied around your back
You were the rope that I tied around my neck.
The shadows of the gallows are still stalking my past.
Just an old unholy ghost haunting family photographs.
I was the rope that you tied around your back
You were the rope that I tied around my neck.
The shadows of the gallows are still stalking my past.
Just an old unholy ghost haunting family photographs.