My father and I had a strange relationship.
I competed with him in a struggle to win some game I had no idea we were playing.
He made up the rules.
He chose the tools and he bent everything that would bend.
Force him as I did with all my might, my father would not say he loved me.
“God bless” was the best he could muster. God bless, god bless!
I guess some son-of-a-bitch has to.
Thank you, friend.