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How will I father a minion worth the bother of keeping my glut?
Or will I falter and never reach the altar where fate is unplugged?
Am I worth consideration or the plausible elation that comes biting tongues?
Or will it always be a secret? fine, go ahead and keep it, i've got some of my own
Look at that kid, no son of mine
He reeks of pain and guilt soaked up and stained in his eyes
That he cleans with 'serpentine'
Rays in his mouth, he'll sunburn. graze where it is hot
Burns his throat, will he spit fire or will he learn to stop?
I can't calm down or sit back and watch you struggle
But i can just give up on myself
I'll carry a heavy load (on my shoulders)
For a pat on the back, or a star on your flag, or just be vocal
It's what it is when it's defined
And goes down smooth with a glass of grime
The conscience shifts to mark the times
Nobody's to blame, if they cover their eyes and act surprised
Will I father a son? tell me how he will be
Will he fall in traps that I have set & placed & scattered all around me?
Will he reach with his arms? Will he pull up his sleeves?
Have I scared him from work & love & friendship & success that's always avoided me?
Is it my fault? Am I sick, or sick in me? we've all got our own disease
I'm as well as well as i can be.