We dig up hooked and tangled roots
Which throw out new invasive shoots
(Dad's getting old, to tell the truth)
His stories sure to draw a hoot
From me, whether heard before or not
We dig up hooked and tangled roots
His own dad, in his beardless youth,
Brought home from war a shrapnel wound
(He's getting old, to tell the truth)
Blood soaking into alpine ground
Is soil, that birthed a bitter fruit
We dig up hooked and tangled roots
My gentle idol's other suit
From diamond heart to black-raged mood
(He's getting old, to tell the truth)
When my sons are acting out
I tourniquet the need to shout
I'm getting old, to tell the truth
We dig up hooked and tangled roots