"Your ancestors left their Italy lands for a better
life here in the States.
They multiplied, shared their lives to make homes for
people of their same faith.
Planting many seeds to watch their gardens grow.
Their children were the flowers.
Many Italian Hearts will glow.
With you planted in Brooklyn.
It's beauty was of a girl whom iv'e grown to know.
Your gardeners nurtured you with love,
to make sure a **** would never grow.
In time, your Italian Heart traveled in distance to meet up
with mine.
Our friendship poured smooth, like a bottle of vintage wine.
Two glasses stay full up until this day,
because of your ancestors leaving their Italy lands,
and giving us a better way."

"I'm sitting here thinking of there.
There is where i would love to be.
There, can you tell me where?
How will i get there?
What is it that's there?
Why should i even care?
What's so important that makes me what to
leave here?
Just a thought of being here, and wanting to go there,
does produce a little fear.
It's a fear of not knowing if you belong there.
New Jersey is the there of the where i want to be,
and Linda is of my care for whom i want to see,
but the question is. "Does she want to be with me?"

Oh father, where did you go?
You're sending postcards
from the West Coast,
whilst I'm stranded in the snow.

Oh father, I hear your voice.
You're telling me to
keep breathing in,
telling me I have a choice.

Oh father, who are you?
All the evidence
of your footsteps
have faded into the blue.

Oh father, you walk with me.
You keep your ears
close to my thoughts,
in this distant city.

Oh father, where did you go?
You're being fanned
by the warmth,
whilst these northern winds will blow.