My dad was always this mystery A shadow from the past I never knew My mom rarely talked about him And I never begged for another clue I met him as I turned eighteen We went to a Rolling Stones concert And it seemed somewhat surreal To be as dried as the vacant desert He gave the keys to my Mustang A brown, little hatchback from 1980 It was wheels for a little bit Even if it could barely go above 80 I was in Nebraska for one week With him as he worked as a handyman We talked and were catching up But I know not what makes him a man I met my half-brother in Omaha When I went to visit many years ago He clung to me like the memory Of being a brother I may never know (Both my dad and brother are named Daniel.)
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