I guess I am my father’s daughter.
Finding any excuse to fall into my old habits
One hand on the bottle, smoke coming from the other.
Always having an explanation for my wrongdoings.
I never let happiness linger in the room, I smash
the walls to let it out. I thought it was the
poet inside of me trying to find inspiration in pain
but I guess it’s my father’s damn legacy making
me destroy peace wherever I set foot in.
I guess I am my father’s daughter.
Never let anyone’s opinion bother me.
The world is a nasty place, I heal my wounds in
alcohol and cigarettes. As I grow older I understand
him more and more and instead of seeing him
for the monster he was I see the monster’s cub
growing bigger in the mirror.
I guess I am his daughter.
Let’s drink to the legacy you left me with father.