Fatherhood

There's glass melting around my head, like skin that's

rippled but clear.

I can breathe but walking's dead hard.

Dark clouds are beginning to steer me towards fatherhood,

me towards fatherhood.

I hope my son will not scream if he wants ice cream.

I hope all little girls will be safe when he starts to

dream about fatherhood, about fatherhood.

I don't want him when I've given up.

I want to drink from the same glass.

I hope you won't catch anything or regard me as something

from his past, from his past, from his past, from his

glorious past.

Fatherhood, fatherhood.