I have a close friend of mine, his apathy\'s a sword.
He boldly swings it round and round, for pain he\'s just too bored.
For all of our keen insight into vacant fathers past,
This old ghost just can\'t relate; His world don\'t turn so fast.
Another of my brethren has anger underneath;
Taken to smashing mirrors while he\'s gnashing all his teeth.
Calm as they come most days, and often so damn kind,
But in cycles he self destructs, \'fore regrowing his rind.
Another of my closest kin is always just too cool.
No matter what the moment needs he always plays the fool.
I have seen a flash of pain, and endless god damn joy;
But if its intimate or tense, he turns and plays it coy.
I myself make dramas out of every little thing.
A drunk upon the stage of life who selfish, loudly sings.
At times I\'m boldly honest, and sometimes sheepishly,
But love and lore are endless storms to my unyielding sea.
These are the best of men that I have ever known,
(Discounting myself of course, I\'m rotten to the bone;)
They are each my brother, I owe them worlds and more,
But still we each carry a curse that each our fathers bore.
I adore them every one, and \'till death always will,
And know this sharp and ancient stone has much momentum still.
But god I hope we slow it down, I pray to do some good;
Pray that somewhere down the line men abandon manhood.