Если я останусь

           Youeverlistencarefullytothethingshesays?"

           Ishookmyhead,suddenlyashamed.Ihadn’tevenrealizedthatDadwrotelyrics.Hedidn’tsingsoIjustassumedthatthepeopleinfrontofthemicrophoneswrotethewords.ButIhadseenhimsitatthekitchentablewithaguitarandanotepadahundredtimes.I’djustneverputittogether.

           Thatnightwhenwegothome,IwentuptomyroomwithDad’sCDsandaDiscman.IcheckedthelinernotestoseewhichsongsDadhadwrittenandthenIpainstakinglycopieddownallthelyrics.ItwasonlyafterIsawthemscrawledinmysciencelabbookthatIsawwhatGrampsmeant.Dad’slyricswerenotjustrhymes.Theyweresomethingelse.Therewasonesonginparticularcalled"WaitingforVengeance"thatIlistenedtoandreadoverandoveruntilIhaditmemorized.Itwasonthesecondalbum,anditwastheonlyslowsongtheyeverdid;itsoundedalmostcountry,probablyfromHenry’sbriefinfatuationwithhillbillypunk.IlistenedtoitsomuchthatIstartedsingingittomyselfwithoutevenrealizingit.