I am nothing, but my father's son
And waking, still, to what's been done
Along, alone, I wonder what has begun
From here, or was it something sung
Before, in memories I don't recall
And what is done befits the fall.
The family always sits behind
In triumph, tragedy
It comes to mind
I follow father's steps, in kind
No matter path or where I go
Regardless of the seeds I sow
And kindness shown or what I show
There walks a man that I don't know
The mystery befalls me still
And so, and yet, my father's will
