Daddy

on the day I was born you were 41
my mom she was 28
and we lived together for a couple of years and
everythign was great
until one day you went insane
and we moved to Yakima to live with my grandma

but that wasn't the end of you
a big part of me
would have much preferred
to have never met you

and it was a while ago that you would
come to visit me once every other week
and we woudl go do fun things like
go to the country fair but my favorite place
was the cabin by the lake
the last time I was there, I was eight

chorus:
I would like to go there again
maybe with you
we could hunt for tadpoles
climb in through the windows

and your father grandpa Watkins was the sweetest man alive
he showed me all the beautiful things in Naches Heights
we used to ride on four wheelers through orchards to
uncle Earl's to eat cheese sandwiches
and those pink pickled eggs

I found out he died
a few years back
i wish i would have visited him
you were right about that

and it was my tenth birthday the last
time you came to visit me
we sat at Red Robin with milkshakes
and you made a necklace for me
on three strings, garnets and bones
and other beads, we finished up
then you said your last goodbye to me

all these memories are
all i have left of this [bad word] up history that
i can't forget

you had called to say
you would be three hours late
but that three hours turned into
a week and then a month,
and now ten years and no word...

and today you might be sixty-four
my mom she is fifty-one
and we all live our own lives
and to me I wish you were
no one, but the
hardest part of reality
is what seems to be between
you and me