1-800-Missing

1-800-missing
That's the number you call
When your daughter's gone
And you think this is a dream

But I told you to your face
"This is it, I'm going"
And you thought you could chase me
Hunt me down like an animal

Now you're walking right on top
Of my cold, white body
Each crackling step over the frigid surface
Another crunching bite into reality

You slowly fall to your own death
Hot tears melting the sheets of ice
Sinking to your daughter
In a shallow puddle of darnkess

Forgiveness shines like pirate's gold
As Daddy feeds the counselor
His words of sorrow and repentance
But I know he won't come after us