I always have ,Aimee, with the Daddy Issues and shit. My dad, despite playing that song as a struggling musician, is so That Guy.
Spike's Bitches 27: I'm Embarrassed for Our Kind.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
I feel like I'm That Dad. I missed Em's first steps, rolling over.
t kicks Harry Chapin
Fucker.
Didn't Mr. Chapin's wife write that song?
If you ever wonder, I think you're not. And life and I wanna say...heroin(?) beat you to the kicking. (is this my new role in this community? pointing out the snakes famous folks get devoured by?) It does fit my dark-lady rep. Feeling so vain about tagging myself, though.
Feeling so vain about tagging myself, though.
Do you think this song is about you?
Ha. Not yet.
I feel like I'm That Dad. I missed Em's first steps, rolling over.
Fucker.
You missed the things you'd remember, you won't miss the ones she'll treasure for the rest of her life. You will always be there FOR that little girl.
Where've you been?
Aimee, did you get the stuff mailed?
If you ever wonder, I think you're not. And life and I wanna say...heroin(?) beat you to the kicking.
Nope. Car crash, 1981.
On July 16, 1981, Chapin was driving to a business meeting on the Long Island Expressway near Jericho, NY, when his car was rear-ended by a tractor-trailer. The accident caused his gas tank to explode, killing the singer/songwriter in the process.
And his wife wrote a poem that became the basis for "Cat's In The Cradle;" the song is credited to both Chapins.