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
