At the weather's mercy this table lay 
 Gnarled and worn to an aged gray 
 Left outside not taken care of for too long 
 Like my own dad's mistakes 

 Father chose to quit his life's slow collapse 
 The table so flawed it had to be scrapped, now 
 Dragged out slowly by the ends of two it's legs 
 With both his and my hands 

 Tore it apart, piece by piece, every panel and pin 
 With no change of heart. 

 This table fed me in times I sometimes wish I never lived 
 You made some mistakes that burned holes through gentle hearts, and you were framed harshly from then on 
 In this dust all the hate and hurt that you had to live through to care for us 
 If there's a thing called redemption to me, it would be what you've done for your family 

 Before hoping that the snow would fall up 
 He sees now you can't fill a bottomless cup 
 Rain falls down it's fathers own beads of sweat 
 Like the rain, [bad word] down  [bad word] to the ground  [bad word] to the ground 
 [bad word] to the ground 
 To all those years 
 That you've lost 
 In your fears  [bad word] Back down 
 Back to what's real 
 To all the love 
 That you feel