Artificial,
prosthetic hands,
sympathetic, but I’ll put and end to this.
(ooo…)
Can’t keep fighting, do I have to keep fighting?
Stop breathing.
Stop breathing.
It’s not the same,
it’s not the same,
’cause I was just a kid, dad—Ohho-ohho…
It does not do to dwell on dreams.
Acceptance takes you further than you ever thought you’d go.
(When you chase the ghost of things that could have been,
like a father who was never there.)
The ghosts of things that could have been,
like the father who was never there at all,
at all.
(I was a boy
now I’m a plane,
but I can’t keep this holding pattern anymore.)