Son

Son, father, holy ghost The thing I miss the most Is someone to look at me Not through me Like I'm to boast Lifting a formal toast To someone lucky not to Be here Birth, school, work, death Hide your foul breath Get laid off twice a year Whatever was my crime I have done my time Now I'm free to disappear Like a ghost Take an extra shift Stairs instead of lift First stroke at thirty eight Wear that fair trade silk Decaf with non-fat milk Maintain your ideal weight Birth, school, work, death Hide your foul breath Get laid twice a year Whatever was my crime I have done my time Now I'm free to disappear Like a ghost Son, father, holy ghost The thing I miss the most Is someone to talk to me Not about me