Testo Sins Of The Fathers

Timeless, on the edge of any cityA field of weathered stonesWatching, all aloneMarks the fitful resting placeOf silent, stirring bonesSome that pass before usWe, in guilt, cannot let goAn old man runs his hands through tattered memoriesOf dreams that wouldn't waitThe future; much too lateOne foot caught in yesterday, the other near the graveConveniently removed from sightWith little fight, he fades awaySo many things remain unsaidSo many signals never readBehold the unenlightened truthOf blind, unfeeling youthGrowing up, a child is surroundedTowering above, so rudely pushed and shovedBy those who've lost the child-heartDemanding, without loveLimping into parenthoodThe son becomes what father wasSo many things remain unsaidSo many signals never readBehold the pitiful resultsOf unfulfilled adultsThe rivers of our lives runUnder many bridges burnedNo river runs foreverIs a lesson sorely learnedSo little time for things unsaidSo little time before we're deadBehold life's bright and fragile flowerSo easily devouredTimeless, on the edge of any memoryA figure stands aloneA knife-blade, keen and coldThat wounds the heart of every manWho's love was never toldSome that pass before usWe, in guilt, cannot let go