It was a dark and bleek February week
When a cold and fragile hand grazed my cheek
When I woke up with nothing to find
Was it really real, or was it just my mind
I went downstairs to grab a snack
And the bags were all packed
The note on the fridge stated
It's out of my hands, it's not my fault

As the days go by they begin to moan
From the aches and pains of a broken home
Between procrastination and frustration
I think you've turned out tolerable

Days go on oh so hurt
Until you came into work
All those times I wished you were dead
The worst goodbye you've ever said

I'll see you when I see you
Daddy loves you