In the 60s, World War II vets weren't like anyone else,
and so my Father and I didn't get along.
Catholic school girls are pretty screwed up, too,
so we were probably a lot alike.
And now that I have that figured out,
he's dead and I can't even tell him,
can't tell him he was a hero,
and that I'd drink, too, if I had four kids.
Moonchild Diva
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/daddio/
