Lincoln Street

Eager To Fly

She's screaming at him

And he's yelling back

While the kids crawl in the corner.



I don't know what's going on

And I doubt they have an answer.



"Why don't you close the door when I ask you?

You never seem to listen."

But I think that listening is

something they don't understand.



In the evenings they argue for hours

About the different shades of white.

The only thing that they agree on

Is turning off the light.



The big divide came with no surprise

With the kids tossed in the corner.



Five years pass on Lincoln Street

And they still don't have an answer.



"Why don't you close the door when I ask you?

You never seem to listen."

But I think that listening

is something they don't understand.



"Haven't seen my dad in 2 years," he cries,

Although I write him every week."

But no replies leaves an ache inside

That he's trying to replace.



"Why don't you close the door when I ask you?

You never seem to listen.

But I think that listening

is something we don't understand.