This Is What (normal)

Baby brother don't you know?

I'm cross when you come,

I'm cursed when you go.

I won't waste my time, let the worst get in line.

I fruitlessly labor for show.

As time passes distance grows.

My son is so late.

Mother trust I will bring you a face,

even on the wrong days,

you know I could dream to lay,

next to that body,

I've yet to make.

This is what it is to be.

Call it joy in youth,

don't dare call it free.

He won't come, he won't crawl.

He won't answer at all.

I fruitlessly labor for show.

As time passes distance grows