Caleb

"There is a man in this world,
who has never smiled.
You may know his tragedy,
the later years by heart.

In the beginning there was,
a mother, a father, and a child.
A troubled little silent boy,
whose life they worked to destroy.

Known to us from this day on,
by his father, Caleb."

His mother came up with such a clever way,
to save the day with a little white lie.
He thinks he missed the point back then,
but now he's grown to understand it in a way.

Father said:
"I'm sorry only once, as I remember.
The words were not meant to hurt,
only destroy you, my stupid son."

One person can make,
a difference, sometimes.
Just turn his head,
when the kid is still and has a weak neck.

Smiled at his funeral:
"Happy, you're dead."

All his solutions, it seemed,
were only problems in disguise.
Glueing on his drinkin´ face,
got ready to erase another day.

Mother was yet confident,
although they had it tight.

Taught her son:
At the end of every tunnel's,
a little light.

It wasn't a lie, it was her hope,
that everything would be fine one day.
"He can fulfill his every dream,
I'm happy as long as he's not."

"I hate it and fear can't face it.
The child is not right,
he's my greatest shame.

Go out, create thunder,
and stand right under that old apple tree,
where dead snakes let him feed on those..."

Lost hopes, all those kind words,
could hurt him even more now.
Somehow, lost one more way back home.

Out on the lake he rows towards a monster,
he should've been running away from, years ago.
The past had made him blind to the way,
he'd turned the pain into a way of life.

Followed his father, tucked him in,
Caleb knows the trade.
He's the portrait of a man,
his mother drew to hate forever.

She was a beast, a deadly saint,
wrong in many ways.
Wanted to keep up the charade,
until the end waltzing together.

Over the hills, under the sea.
Fighting the will, whole universe.
Why does a man driving a hearse?
Live in fear, gift and a curse.

Taking 'em out, taking 'em all.
Shooting the wall, over and out.
When nothing moves, all's well,
a decision he can find a way to live with...

...and dried up flowers are so beautiful.
And it applies to all things living, and dead.
For that I serve my time in my suite in Hell.

"Now I ring the bell to tell the world,
I'm ready when they bring out,
the soon to be dead against the wall."

This necessary evil has no heart.
Flowers and people he will now enlace.
A price he must pay serving a cold...

...Whatever God.