I got the call I knew was coming. I saw the ground and I hit running. I opened the wooden box, I know I wasn't supposed to but just so I'd know this was goodbye. In the beige room, designed to comfort, I touched your head (it was cold and dead).
In the beige room, designed to comfort, I touched your eyes (there was nothing inside).
And the music they played, all the songs were the same. And the men were men, and the women refrained. The show was over, and the father was dead. "A beautiful service", they all said. Four years in the ground, and I'm sorry for all that had to go unsaid.
Alone in a room, I closed the lid, said goodbye, walked away on a generation. Goodbye.
