I am my dad's child, an abused son
Whenever he'd lie, I would cry
Whenever he called me, I would run
We never could see eye to eye
His face was the illusion of the sun
But without the warmth, I couldn't fly
I'd stare into the barrel of his gun
To me it was comforting, that I could die
Now I shun the people that live for fun
I don't say hi or good day or goodbye
Instead I look at the ground and what I've done
And how I've fallen having never been high
By merely surviving, I couldn't have won
Yet for whom do I live, for what and why?