He peered from behind the garden of triumph
His face was white, and feared with the power of influence
I saw him through the gray stained glass window then,
In an ordinary position with his thumb in his mouth
Blurry, yet he still resembles what I made of him that day.

I watched him grow closer to the ship as I once did
The wooden walls and and names inside are still there
I once wished that he knew me, but this is what's right
Today, his 18th birthday, I lay down, another year passed
Still nothing I know I can give him will make up for lost time.