Three Years Old? Knock Him Across The Room. At Sixteen Chase Him With An Axe.

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.

Barry out.

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