He wasn't really my father

When he slapped me across my face

As he called me a slut and a whore

As I came home that night real late

I knew it was the whiskey talking

When he belittled me in front of my friends

He said he should of choked me when I was a baby

Then all would've been better for everyone back then

But by morning he was sober

And I knew I had him back

He told me I was still his little girl

And his love I'd never lack

He promised me things would be different

He would no longer do me any harm

And I guess I wanted to believe him

As he held me in his arms

But one drink always became two

And two soon became four

And as the sun set I would always find him

Passed out on the living room floor

So I would struggle to try and help him

To guide him back to his bed

And in his drunken stupor

He said he wished that he was dead

And soon his wish was granted

The whiskey had damaged his brain

And I found myself standing over his gravesite

In that Sunday morning rain

I was told that God had called him

That he's now in a better place

I just wish I had some nice memories

I ask for just a trace

Instead, I can only remember the sorrow

The hurt and the sting of pain

As I pour out my Father's Demons

From the bottle, down the drain