I imagine the suburban struggle
That my father works through every day
I know that his spirit is smothered now
By the falsehood of American dreams
Struggling to feed not just him but me
the suburban struggle is a real one
that plagues him whenever he rests his eyes
Those eyes that squint at overdue taxes
Those eyes that cast a blue desperate glare

He's always scowling at something
But mostly at himself
For feeling inadequate in times
Of the most desperate need
But I look to my father for morality
And peace of mind,
I just wish he'd rest a while