If I had a Son

In the depths of a fruitless nightlife 
Sitting calmly on a cold bench, 
Looking towards this compulsive endless sky. 
If I had a son he would be with me, 
His tiny trembling hand in mine. 
I would teach him a strange sense of humor, 
To laugh out loud and laugh loud cynical whenever he feels loved. 
I would instruct him to be cruel and deaf. 
I would advise him to never say goodbye. 
I would hate him to protect him and reward his solitude. 
He would grow up and become a sorrowful man—
A thief but not a master; 
A starving mind with hysterical tears in his merciless eyes; 
Each time just the adulterer, 
Nor the lover, nor the friend. 
If I had a son he would be angry 
'Cause I spared him all the lullabies
And read him headlines instead. 
I would drag him to a nightclub
And pour him cheap Champagne. 
This walking mess in constant denial of how twisted he really is. 
I would teach him self-interest and how to ruin lives. 
In the depths of a fruitless nightlife 
Walking calmly towards the moon. 
If I had a son, my son would be like you.
 

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