I still replay you trying to jump out of
The second floor window, from last Tuesday night.
I can still hear your voice in the back of my head,
When you looked me in the eye and swore
on my life that you didn’t take a sip of your vice.
I didn’t know déjà vu existed till I saw you
Laying on the floor with the angel on your shoulders,
Picking you up from the depths for the third time.
It all still replays for me, Dad.