He didn’t smoke, he didn’t drink
These the things that really do made you think
How come he now can’t speak though, or make love for that matter
An infamously bed-hopping mad-hatter with spatterings of hard luck
Remember the other time, they had to pull his decrepit body out from underneath that truck
Tucked away inside of the hospital Sunday through Tuesday
Know what they say? That he asked for it, as soon as he decided to smother his 2nd wife, sat on the feathered pillow and waited ’til the bitch was sedated
No way back for her
His voice went from a slur first off, to a weakening and oh so soft murmur
Words that wouldn’t even if they wanted to relay what he had just done
All the vicious bastard could do in the courtroom was direct his fallen head toward their only son
The one who came and took the blame
Shameful of his father right from the beginning, but he left in handcuffs, shackled
The pair had always battled it out
A father with no real hope, an idiotic dope of a son raised to save his every bad deed
He teed it all up ’til the seed was sown