He wasn't a man in an armor,
nor a knight on a horse.
While some men do it better,
sometimes he did it worse.
He was weak and tired,
but he was always steady.
He was one who'd most likely hurt
everyone but his own ladies.
Instead of those strong hands girls dream of,
I had a pair of thin-wrinkled ones instead.
But those hands would hold me when I need them,
so tight and close that his palms would turn red.
He had the eyes of a promising father,
and they always invited me in.
Now that he's gone away forever,
I'm just a lost daddy's girl without him.
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