daddies hands (tell stories)

A Poem by J. B.

lyrics to a song of mine called "daddies hands (tell stories) hope you enjoy :)

(Verse)

oh hey do you remember the first time you saw me,
did you think to yourself that you were sorry  for what would become of you and I 
and I can still remember thinking to myself how much like a mountain you were,
stoney faced and weathered and your hands were like stones
that fell from the mountain side
 but I knew better  to see under the rubble
 a troubled heart  
and scars that run deeper than the ocean
swaying to the motion of the life you found yourself in.

 And you were a workin man 

You would dig and dig and dig but six feet deep is never deep enough to bury your pride
just to bury you alive and maybe some of the dreams you once had as a boy with smoother hands  

but now you're a man
whose hands  tell stories

(Chorus 1)

Oh, daddies hands are stretched and worn
like the old parchment found
in the leather bound books
I used to read as a boy
under the apple tree in our back yard, those hands are big and hard, rough, leathered and scarred
and dirty from the soil of the land

 I could see the stories in my daddies hands

(Verse)

oh pops you were impossible to read impossible to see no emotion came from thee
until I was 23 and your brother died and you were
beside yourself with gritted teeth
and pent up grief and the reality of loneliness that creeps in like the cold that touches the leaves
as they shiver in the fall and autumn comes

oh I remember the smell of cigarettes and gasoline and oil from when we took apart the engine block of that big black truck and I felt stuck
as you made me stick around to help
and I had hated that
but we were closer then
and I’d give anything
just to go right back to when
it was just you and I taking rides out to the country side
to shoot the s**t and confide in you a little more
than I did otherwise

oh daddy, do you remember when you would hold my little hand because
I can

I could feel the stories in my daddies hands.  

(Chorus 1)

Oh, daddies hands are stretched and worn
like the old parchment found
in the leather bound
books I used to read as a boy
under the apple tree in our back yard, those hands are big and hard and rough, leathered and scarred
and dirty from the soil of the land
 I could see the stories in my daddies hands

(Chorus 2)

I will bury you beside the old apple tree
that your bare hands kept alive for me so you could watch me climb up to see the stars
Yes, I will bury you beside the old apple tree
that your bare hands kept alive for me so you could watch me climb up to the heavens
 Oh that tree has survived so so many storms
And now my hands are just like yours

(Verse)

Now you’re old and gray and we have parted ways
and you live your days with worn down hands that gave up hope and still dig graves and
six feet deep  is never deep enough to bury your pride just to bury you alive and maybe some of the dreams you once had as a boy
with smoother hands  but

now you're a man
whose hands  tell stories

(Chorus 2)

(End)

and time is rough as desert sands
and now I've got my daddies hands