Nobody said it would be easy
They told me to walk, not run
But I always felt that barbaric gun pressed against my goddamn chest, the fear of God coursing through my heart
Looking to help whilst at the same time hinder
Take me forlornly apart, drag us all asunder
I wonder if you even know what you’re doing
The double-edged sword, or gun rather, carrying with it a wanton shine
A heavy-set man forever in place, quite possibly a long-lost father
Sprinting behind at a ferociously steady pace
Beads of desperate sweat pouring down a weather-beaten face that seems to have missed its own meeting
Greeting his son, looking to spill vicarious thrills on out of him
A most obscene and sickeningly depraved intervention
Owing to the supposedly imaginary gun that no-one dare mention
A love/hate relationship – I love me, I hate him
Or perhaps he loves me and does in fact hate himself
To all of the above I dearly relate
So drop the gun, old man
Here standing before you is your only son!

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