The Issue.

Dad, I'm coming home this world is much to rough on your poor son, and I'm so sorry I didn't listen, but now I'll be right where I belong.
I've never been able to fight my tears and I've never been able to deny that you were right all along

Then you said to me: "Son, I don't care whose right or wrong, I just hate your face so long and I know I wasn't always perfect but I did my best and a better son I could not elect.
You are finding your way out there and since you're the last, I suppose I'm a bit scared; When you're alone, though, out there by your self, I will always pray hard, fast and long, that you remember how much, to me, you are, and that no matter where you fit in, never forget that only in your mind, can you find a place, that you truly belong. "

"I've always known that you love me. I always have as well.
I've always thanked Him for where I was placed,
and for that sweet, blooming blossom, he's put in my mouth to taste.
It grew into a flower and stopped at nothing to give me wealth,
You worked so hard, loved so perfect and yielded, in me, such health.

I grew tired, at one point, of your tender ways.
I was locked in despair trying to flee from your gaze.
I passed the time in sleep and in my dreams I ended yours
I woke up only in necessity and exhaled from my lungs the hate that grew for you.
As I ate, I plotted your end and feared the very air that you touched.
I feared letting you down. I never hated you, I never have.
I wore a deceiving frown. "Do you hate me?"
was your question, so sincere.
"I never have," was my reply, engulfed in tear.

I now think of all you did for me.
I now think of all you do for me, and in
those thoughts
unending love I've found.
In my mind
unending grace I've found.

My thoughts and my mind, though are deceiving.
They live in fear and feed off of fairy tale.