Dead dads don’t listen , even if they did when they drew air

We keep on having the conversations even though they are not here

Dead dads don’t forgive , even if they did when they still lived

We keep asking for forgiveness , even though they have nothing to give

Dead dads don’t have the answers , though they did when we were wee

We keep on asking the questions , looking through eyes that just won’t see

Dead dads don’t listen , but I’m not yet done saying my piece

One day I won’t listen either , six feet under this old bloody place.