33

How can I explain to you,
He was only thirty-two;
But he's gone, never to return.
I know we don't discuss it much,
Silence is a kind of trust;
But he's gone, oh the feeling burns;

And mama never cries.
Who would dry her eyes?
So I'll sit here, slowly atrophy.
Time has passed, and clocks have spun,
He will be forever young.
I can't believe I'm nearly thirty-three.

Filing to receive the Ghost,
I bit down hard upon the Host
And tried so hard to bring back memories.
But memories don't return at will,
Sometimes I wish he'd held still,
So I could try to capture him in Time.
But I am just a man,
I stood up straight and sang.
That's what he'd have done, if he'd been here.
I had to do it on my own.
I became the man at home;
And I, I can't believe I'm nearly thirty-three.

I'm standing silent here,
Waiting for my father dear,
I can't believe I'm nearly thirty-three.
Just like him the day that he left me.