Growing Up

The rain was falling what a shame I put my cap on for the game My father met me at the door I hoped the pitcher had good aim The stadium looked like a war The fans in the crowd were in uproar My father passed me his tin can The game was no longer a bore I was at the game as a man This time I had brought my wife Diane It was now twenty years later And I had driven a blue van I was now a paid creator An accomplished debater May even be a dictator But my father had made me greater