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He writes letters
He gives a firm handshake
He doesn’t put up with bullshit
He works with his hands
Still lives in his traditions
Doesn’t know how to use an iPhone
He is my old man
Who taught me everything I know today
His ways mixed with my new ways
Is what shapes me
An old man
But so much more
The ones buried beneath our feet
The ones in the caskets
With roses, and notes
Dead memories
They don’t want to be forgotten
They still have an impact on the living
I know
My pop is still with me today
His memory and picture
Will always be with me
And your fallen ones
Should still be with you too
No one ever truly dies
Point of Origin
When a loved heartbeat stops beating
It can change someone
I know
It changed me
My heartbeat still beats
It’s hard, but it keeps beating
But one heartbeat will never be beating
Look on my chest
His lovely face is forever stained onto me
It’s all I could do
My dreams, and idol is forever dead in the ground
Some days just breathing or walking is hard
I wear the cross around my neck
But even he can’t help at times
I keep pushing through
I’m eighteen
I’m a man now
If only my pop could see me now
When a loved heartbeat stops beating
It can change someone
I know
It changed me
My heartbeat still beats
It’s hard, but it keeps beating
But one heartbeat will never be beating
Look on my chest
His lovely face is forever stained onto me
It’s all I could do
My dreams, and idol is forever dead in the ground
Some days just breathing or walking is hard
I wear the cross around my neck
But even he can’t help at times
I keep pushing through
I’m eighteen
I’m a man now
If only my pop could see me now
Write, Write, Write, Sleep, Write