this is what (normal)

Baby brother don't you know?
I'm cross when you come,
I'm cursed when you go.
I won't waste my time, let the worst get in line.
I fruitlessly labor for show.
As time passes distance grows.
My son is so late.
Mother trust I will bring you a face,
even on the wrong days,
you know I could dream to lay,
next to that body,
I've yet to make.
This is what it is to be.
Call it joy in youth,
don' t dare call it free.
He won't come, he won't crawl.
He won't answer at all.
I fruitlessly labor for show.
As time passes distance grows