The ink is still wet...

Many a story I've lived,
Many a path I've weaved,
With this quil, ink will flow,
I'm me, a troubled little soul.

Why do I feel this way?
In sun, I can be a darkened day,
With a voice, I can say I've wept,
With this quil, the ink is still wet.

I walked the streets with my dog named Charlie,
We built a family of love, but the house kept falling,
The church lights were on, too proud to talk,
So I wiped my cheeks and decided to give my dad a call.

"Hello dad, can you come and pick me up, it's over, I've tried and tried, I'm just so tired"
I thought that I had let everyone one down and embarrassed myself, but her load was too much to carry,
A family tree, is a tree for a reason, the roots are where the love keeps breathing,
He was there for me, he was there for his son, he was there when my heart was breaking.

Somebody said to me, take your chances when they come along,
A hazy past lurks beneath, I don't live it, I understand and 'write' my wrongs,
Sometimes I'm happy, sometimes I'm sad,
One thing I believe, I'm still a loving dad.

Why do I feel this way?
I don't even know!
In sun, I can be a darkened day,
I can feel alone!
With a voice, I can say I've wept,
With this quil, the ink is still wet,
With this quil,
The ink is still wet...