He was 30 with a child,
Not his, by far,
The baby grew up for more,
He took what he wanted,
Was it his? No.
Not his, by far.

He wanted more then candy bars,
He wanted toy cars and dinosaurs.
He went to the store and stole them,
Not his, by far.

He turned 21, and knew he could drink.
He took his dad’s beer,
Not his, by far.
He took more and more,
Not his, by far,

And soon enough,
He was drunk on the floor.
He puked and he left through the door,
The house he was in,
Not his, by far.

He ran into a car,
Not his, by far
Inside he saw a cigar
Not his, by far

He drove to a house, abandoned,
He went in to be sinned,
He left with horns,
Not his, by far.

He drove the car off a bridge,
A life was gone,
A life that is…
Not his, by far.