Life is a gift, tied up in strings,

When we are young, we don’t think of these things,

Over the years, with hindsight I see,

Now I sense a bit more of my old man in me.

At times growing up, we’d shut ourselves down,

Under blankets of silence, cold sheets of sound,

And our thoughts often echoed, like a whispering dome,    

Where a heart is a guest, in that place you call home,

Back in the ring, each day a new round,

Blow after blow, life kept knocking you down,

I hope you can hear, I hope you can see,

That I sense a bit more of your old self in me.


A father back then, a daughter today,

You’re 20 years young and you’re many miles away, 

When you are sad, I feel your same pain,

As if I’m reliving my childhood again,

Some days I wonder, just what did I do,

I gave you a heart that will break like mine, too.

One day you’ll watch your child work and watch your child play,

You’ll see for yourself what I wonder this day,

As you pick up the pieces, of what you hold true,

Will you like what you see of your old man in you?

Will you like what you see of your old man in you?