The Old Timer S 2x4

Walking dead on two burned feet
 Do you have anything left to say to me?
 From barber chairs and baseball gloves to calling names and slaps and drugs
 From, "Son, you could have been someone" to "Hey there, meet my only son"
 Lost in the mail for a convenient month
 A graduation unattended, five hundred miles, five hundred days
 We'll never talk, let's count the ways we fake it over every break
 And you kick yourself for making this mistake
 Actions dismantle litigation
 I thought this would be easier for me
 Another forced smile on vacation
 Another disappointment paves itself into a two-way street
 And I see you inside myself, I want to climb out of my skin
 I see you in myself every day and once again
 I was your worst mistake, your connection to a 30 year hate
 I tried hard not to believe it, I'll try harder not to feel it
 So here's to you