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Sins Of The Fathers

Timeless, on the edge of any city

A field of weathered stones

Watching, all alone

Marks the fitful resting place

Of silent, stirring bones

Some that pass before us

We, in guilt, cannot let go



An old man runs his hands through tattered memories

Of dreams that wouldn't wait

The future; much too late

One foot caught in yesterday, the other near the grave

Conveniently removed from sight

With little fight, he fades away



So many things remain unsaid

So many signals never read

Behold the unenlightened truth

Of blind, unfeeling youth



Growing up, a child is surrounded

Towering above, so rudely pushed and shoved

By those who've lost the child-heart

Demanding, without love

Limping into parenthood

The son becomes what father was



So many things remain unsaid

So many signals never read

Behold the pitiful results

Of unfulfilled adults



The rivers of our lives run

Under many bridges burned

No river runs forever

Is a lesson sorely learned



So little time for things unsaid

So little time before we're dead

Behold life's bright and fragile flower

So easily devoured



Timeless, on the edge of any memory

A figure stands alone

A knife-blade, keen and cold

That wounds the heart of every man

Who's love was never told

Some that pass before us

We, in guilt, cannot let go

Sins Of The Fathers /

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