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Monday, September 25, 2006
In His Living years 9/24/2006 4:53:46 PM Every generation, blames the one that came before. And all of those frustrations, come beating on your door.
I know that I'm a prisoner, to what my father held so dear. I know that I'm a hostage, to all his hopes and fears
I just wish I could have told him, in his living years

Crumpled bits of paper, filled with imperfect thought. Stilted conversations, Im afraid thats all we've got.
You say you just dont see it, he says its perfect sense. You just cant get agreement in this present tense
We all talk a different language, we all talk in defense
Say it loud, say it clear. You can listen as well as you hear. Its too late when we die, to admit we dont see eye to eye

So we open up a quarrel, between the present and the past. We only sacrifice the future, its the bitterness that lasts
So dont yield to the fortunes, you sometimes see as fate. It may have a new perspective, on a different day
And if you dont give up, and dont give in...You may just be o.k.

Say it loud, say it clear. You can listen as well as you hear. Its too late when we die, to admit we dont see eye to eye

I wasn't there that morning, When my father passed away
I didnt get to tell him, all the things I had to say.

I think I caught his spirit, later that same year
Im sure I heard his echo in my babys new born tears
I just wish I could have told him in the living years

Say it loud, say it clear. You can listen as well as you hear.
Its too late when we die, to admit we dont see eye to eye
-- In memory to my late father Louis "Lou" Cutlar ---

Sunday, September 25, 2005