Hands Like My Dad's

I was five years old on the shop floor
Watchin' him turn a wrench in the light
Grease in the creases, a wedding band worn thin
Buildin' us a Saturday out of a Friday night
He'd cup my whole head in one calloused palm
Rough as a cinder block, warm as a stove
And I'd trace every scar on the back of his hand
Wonderin' how in the world a man gets hands like those

Hands that work, hands that pray
Hands that hold the whole world in place
Hands that give away more than they ever had
Lord, I got hands like my dad's

Now I'm the one on the second shift
Ten long hours in a warehouse town
Same steel-toed boots, same coffee gone cold
Same wedding band that the years wore down
I caught these hands on the wheel drivin' home
Cracked at the knuckle, worn to the grain
And I swear to God it was him lookin' back
Buildin' a Saturday out of a Friday again

Hands that work, hands that pray
Hands that hold the whole world in place
Hands that give away more than they ever had
Lord, I got hands like my dad's

Got a little girl with a ball cap on
Red dirt worked in the lines of her palms
She grips that bat like she's holdin' a promise
Swingin' for a life I'll put in her arms
And I'll teach these hands to build and to give
To hold on tight and to let her go
And one day she'll look at her own two hands
And know exactly what I came to know

Hands that work, hands that pray
Hands that hold the whole world in place
Hands that give away more than they ever had
Lord, I got hands like my dad's

His, and mine, and hers
One long line that never breaks
Passed down rough and tender through the years
Lord, hands like my dad's