The Sons Of Father

[WReport]

I met one man whose sons were dead,
He told me I look like one of them,
No matter what I’ll do or say,
He’s now on his nasty way;
Because I’m crazy and do not agree,
That old bastard gave up for free,
The pleasure he had felt that time,
The words he whispered then,
And these he whispers now,
Are nothing, for they nasty fine!
“Ah, my lovely son”, he would say,
“Why don’t you stop behaving like a maid?”
This question was so intimate and awful,
Especially his voice which came like a doorbell!
I understand how wrong I’ve been so far,
You can’t behave yourself like that!
And after years we spent together,
I’m getting bored of his manners,
I could have been the one who loves,
The same who cares just like my dad!
“Oh, dad, forgive me now”, I begged,
I’ll change myself and be the son you loved!
But he just stared and laughed at me like mad,
The man invited me to bed.