I should be able to call you my idol,
But I am sad to say you have lost your title.
I used to look up to you,
But now you look down at your feet
Refusing to meet my glare.
It’s pretty clear -- your vision has been fogged.

I wish the fog had set in long ago.
I wouldn’t be crying about your lost soul
while I watch her treat you like a dog.
Maybe I have it wrong,
maybe you aren’t resisting facing your youngest daughter
and telling her you don’t care anymore.
But as soon as that thought pops into my head
I see you closing the door.
Shutting out all the memories you thought were so bad,
but you soon will realize
that’s what you wish you still had.