Bad Son

It's like we reach a certain age
When all the things we love start to decay
"Abandoned them" are words we never use
"Living their own lives": the phrase they choose
"We chose best" is all they say

I woke up last night my eyes flew open
Imagined both of them sitting alone there
Termites in sills under their home
I swear the kids won't even know

We'll pack their shit at dawn
And sail across the desert
In 12 hours we'll be gone
Like California weather
Blown out across the gulf
And I'll be a wretched father
But I won't be a bad son

Now it seems my mom she's gone and fallen
My dad sounded so small when he told me
They say the doctors won't return their calls
Two blankets huddled up by the phone

I'll tear up concrete lots
I'll knock shelving from their anchors
Drive a truck through walls and run
Headline in your morning paper
"A PRESCRIPTION AND A GUN"
If I'll be wanted for murder
At least I won't be a bad son

The crawdad pond was stocked with sewer fish, the pipe opened up
Onto our little nest of rusty chairs, my mom's wet look
The day's catch fled when the bucket spilled
And she rasped, "they're both growing up"

Even writing this song in 2003
I can't see much a difference that there'd be now
You'd have to go and erase all the paths we went
Or blow apart the width of a continent

I'll burrow underground
Light the fuse with total gumption
So deep there's not a sound
Even after the eruption
The war drums will start to pound
And the world may not recover
But I won't be a bad son