[OrelSan and Dad, driving]

[groans]
For good or for ill, my dad often yells
But it's when he says nothing, I know he wants to raise hell
[Dad: Fucker!]
I’d rather he shout, his silences are the worst
What he says aloud can't be as cruel as what he might be thinking
When you’re little, you think that kind of thing will end
But he'll yell your whole life, in his mind you're still ten

[Dad: You smell like hooch, you're drinking in the morning!]
It's a trap; normally I can hold my liquor but...oh yeah...
[Orel: It was the potato salad
Dad: The potato salad!]
Then he asks why I'm not normal
Says, I went to school, I'm not supposed to climb down the social ladder
What did he do wrong? Didn't he train me right?
He still blames my friends, for that one night
When I first started smoking but
All I can think about is my queasy st--
[Dad: Okay, good enough! Calm down, nothing's happened to your stupid shitty Mercedes!]

Why are people more aggressive on the road?
When they feel safe, their true nature's revealed
[Dad: See what you made me do?]
There it is, it's my fault when things go wrong
I wanted to act like him, have a little glass after work
Or a few while I'm at it, like he did in his day
I work better with a few grams in the blood
I could tell him that it helps me to fake it
I could tell him that it helps me to rake it in
But then whatever I say will be taken against me
I just need to shut my gob and look meek
Until I see him again
He talks like this is the first time he's seen me drunk
So is he really concerned or just ashamed of me?

Must be both shaken together
A little like my cocktails that make him say
[Dad: Why?]
He tells me I don’t think about how fortunate I am to have such a fortune
I want to make a joke, don't think it would lighten the mood
His plan was perfect, my path laid out from childhood
He just forgot to ask me what I think
And it's true I never told him, either
Whether or not he yells, I've never truly answered to him

[Dad: You know what we call people who spend their time drinking and walking the streets?]
Okay, I see where he’s going with that, but not so fast
I’m willing to play his game, within limits
He's starting drama when it was just a little bender
Oh fuck, I have to say it
[Orel: Inuits?
Dad: Bums, Aurélien, homeless people!]
When your dad yells at you, your whole life is under question
You might have earned your degree, passed your exams with honors
You've got a permit, a World Cup, two Nobel Prizes, it won't change a thing
You’ll always have the potential to be a good for nothing
You are responsible for all the misfortunes of the Earth
For war and rain and your mom's lack of sex drive

He tells me back in his day, I would have known the 'real life'
Where you'd start working at nine and a half
Where, when you wanted to move out, you'd find any woman who'd come with you to town hall
In short he grew up in the Little House on the Prairie
[Dad: ?llikdaor ekil teerts eht ffo uoy gniparcs trats ot evah I od ,tahW]
We don’t speak the same language, dialogue of the deaf, we can never hear each other
Yet when it comes down to it, we don't resent each other, it will be soon forgotten
So, until the next time my dad yells at me