Absalom, My Absalom

David
Tell mee, Absalom, what is it in me
That made you turn against your father's heart?
My sweet Absalom, could you never see
Your blind impatience drove us far apart?
For you were cureler than you knew
To one who worshiped you
Murdered by your pride and Joab's dart

Tell me, Absalom, where should I turn now
With you run through, decaying in a snare?
My proud Absalom trussed up in that bough
Only through your beauty were you there
Yes, How ironic your demise
You would yourself despise
One who died because of flowing hair

Absalom, my son
Would that I had died for you
Laid my life aside for you
And my kingdom too
What is done is done
If a father's love has failed
To prevail upon an errant son
Then there cannot be a love that could
Ten there cannot be a force for good
Absalom, my Absalom, my son
Absalom, my Absalom, my son

Tell me, Absalom is it always thus?
Can no man be a hero to his child?
My sweet Absalom when I think of us
Now forever lost, unreconciled
I try to roll away the years
The envy disappears
The infant and the parent undefiled

Absalom, my Absalom, my son
Absalom, my Absalom, my son
Absalom, my Absalom, my son