there is no changing an old man
there is no talking to him
both he and I live in a mosaic
within which we must
hold our own.
what sort of a father is this, but he is mine
my actions, my words too, are all wrong.
there is no talking to him
both he and I live in a mosaic
within which we must
hold our own.
what sort of a father is this, but he is mine
my actions, my words too, are all wrong.
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