The Bastard With comany he sits but alone he watches A silent surveyor with an ache in his heart He wishes well to his should-have-been father While he grieves the absence of an iresponsible man The dry stink of humidity has swept his notrils With each pass of the slowly speeding cars A father racing on with a win in his heart As the bastard watches                              Races                                    Yearns to race, too He yearns to enter the race with his father For victory can there be found But alone he watches with company sitting A silent surveyor with a heart in his ache He wishes well to his car-racing father As he dreams of catching him to win