I was only 3 when he left my world
and I grew up a rebellious girl.
I wanted to know my dad, the one who left me.
In the nighttime hours I stayed prayed up
That God would remove from me that cup
I had hope in my heart; it led to dignity.
At twenty-two I hired a P.I.
No longer did I dare ask why
I had the information before me.
Well, he never answered the phone
And I chose to believe he was never home
20 years later I learned he passed that year.
And I cried a torrent of tears.
But the angels they sang a lovely song
Never counting what he'd done wrong
His faith took him to God for eternity.
And if God can forgive then why not me?
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