Oh father of mine, what has been of you?
What has life done to you,
you seem so tired already,
with your sorrowful eyes filled with memories.
I see your mistakes marked on the lines
of your forehead,
I feel in the touch of your hand
how much your bones tremble;
you hold me but your arms no longer hold strength.

Oh father of mine, what has been of you?
You left on a sunny day with your shoulders
so broad and filled with power,
-you left me smiling-,
while my mother's tears fell on me.
And now you've returned with your rags
soaked with cold rain,
your feet cut and burned by the fires you have crossed,
I hear you speak to me with a repentant voice.

Oh father of mine, what has been of you?
Look at your fingers, your left hand,
where you once guarded that ring of a love,
a love you so claimed to have for my mother.
Now replaced by a prayer.
The watch on your wrist,
frozen on the time that you left,
father I am your son,
look at me father of mine,
for I am you in the mirror,
I understand and feel your pain;
I feel your misery,
your sadness, and your resentment.


Oh father of mine, what has been of you?
It's been seventeen years,
many things have happened since yesterday,
I'm no longer the child that saw you hitting your own wife;
I am no longer the child you ceased loving.
I don't hate you, father of mine,
because you and I are so different
yet so alike.
Father I am your son,
but you are not my father.