In 1977
on a hot June day
a little boy was born, and
in his mother's arms, he lay
Oh, but his dad was drivin'
a big truck, he had to be out and workin'
always workin'
But since then, it has occurred to me
that he just didn't care
Oh, 'cause all he taught me was...
not a thing
Oh, he was hardly ever home
if he was, he seemed bored
And now, my bitter head, it is thinking about
Oh, what was wrong with me?
All old pictures I have, show a boy without his dad
Oh, what was wrong with me?

And if I am ever outside
and I see a father and son at play
I can feel their laughter
and I am fighting back tears
Oh, and such depressing thoughts close in
on my mind
I can't take it, oh, I can't take it
How he looks at his son, I never
saw on my dad's face
And now, my bitter hands hold a bottle and a glass
try to forget everything
What's it like to have, the love of a dad?
Oh, what is wrong with me?
Everything's so bad, I wish I could ask my dad
Daddy, can't you see?
Do you give a damn, what you have done to me?

Oh, but maybe someday, I will have a wife
and we will have a son
I will love them, and make things right
But still, why?
Why?
Why?
Couldn't have...
Why couldn't have mine?