"Some are born to feast and the others spend the rest of their lives begging for scraps."
"How can I make this the best night of your life?"
"Take me back to Africa."
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Picture perfect memories
Scattered all around the floor
Reaching for the phone cause
I can't fight it anymore
And I wonder if I ever cross your mind
For me it happens all the time
It's a quarter after one
I'm all alone and I need you now
Cain's POV
"You ready son?" A young boy of just eight years old, nods. He has a mop of curls and a guitar in hand, though it looks quite large in his arms. His father holds a similar guitar, though it looks regular-sized on his lap.
"Let's start from the beginning now. One, two, one, two, three." His father starts off and begins strumming the guitar, and the son follows steadily.
Father:
Close your eyes
Have no fear
The monster's gone
He's on the run and your daddy's here
Together:
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Son:
Before you go to sleep
Say a little prayer
Every day in every way
It's getting better and better
Together:
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
They stopped as the son strung the wrong chord, embarrassed he blushed. Then there was applause, looking to his side his mother sat cross-legged with his sister on her lap. They clapped at the performance and it brought a small smile to the son's face.
