The all too busy appearance,
the easy frowns, the late nights,
forgotten birthdays, the long trips away.
Oh the others can complain, alright,
that you never have time for them,
that perhaps you don't really love them.
But I know the truth
If there ever was a father who
loved his children it would be you.
If anyone wanted the best for them,
it would still be you.
The simple truth is that,
daddy, inside, you hurt.
Even when you try to pretend its not there,
or try to get too busy or run far.
You can't run fast or far enough,
cause daddy the pain isn't here,
Daddy the pain is inside you.