Iddeeut

As will be obvious...this "poem" was written in seven minutes. and I've noticed how they're all fourteen lines long...most of them.

My father, he knew how to build a wall.
His father taught him how to make it tall.
Before him his had shown him how to lay,
A brick upon a brick and pass the day.
But I was never taught to build a thing.
So kept myself away and learned to sing
Now Icarus’ fate might be my own,
When finally my phoney wings have flown.
My flight will prove, no matter how much tall,
There is no wall not worth a worthy fall.
And If I break a bone or two that day,
I’ll tell myself at least ‘twas done my way.
And then I’ll chop my wings and have a rest.
Then tell my son his father does know best.