When I think what could [bad word] of us, If I’d have seen better things instead and the days hadn't seemed quite so dark, close to the border and nothing feels real anymore. 
The last light, and hallowed hollow of your words 
To find a subtle humor as I step towards that line 

You perceived it with patience but powerless to inherit your father’s line 
Shaped to befit his cadence and introspect hard to resist but ill-consigned 

(It’s not the point of it 
It’s just the [bad word] 
And that is all I want for you)