STORM CLAN

My Pop

Papa, Dad, or Pop 
Has taken a big drop
At young side of old age he is a flop
Once in my life he was at the top 
I want to exchange him at a junk shop
But I stop as he is after all my Pop
Women have eaten his brain 
In the desert, he expects  rain 
He has lost the reign 
Grace is no longer his domain 
Our relation I want to maintain 
After all he is my Pop 
He do no alcohol or drug 
But still I miss his hug 
He busy in stealing women like a thug 
I also hate his beer mug 
I daily remember him holding my coffee mug 
After all he is my Pop 
He made read and write 
When he was my mind\'s Knight
We never had a fight 
I was so happy at his sight 
After all he is my Pop 
God give him some sense 
Otherwise for me he is past tense 
I am on the other side of fence 
Even if he is my Pop