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de William Ross

And after a long time, my old man came home
Dropped his bag and smiled, then kissed me and mom
It seems like yesterday, he put me on his lap
It's funny how years can change a face when you live with regret

He said: Son, life isn't fair
I know the times you needed me, I wasn't even there
And now it's probably too late
But I hope you can forgive your poor dad someday

Not even a month had passed, his chair was empty again
I missed the sound of his footsteps and the booze in his hands
Now despite my foolish pride, I came to see his grave
I wonder what he thought when he died and if he called my name

Father, it wasn't too late
The things you said to me still shape my fate
I loved you and I hated you
But I'll always honor you no matter what it takes

And the booze in my hand
That ain't a problem, I hope that you knew
That when my boy grows old
I'll tell him your stories and we'll drink to you

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