Lyrics

**Verse 1**
*The alarm clock’s a gunshot at 4:15,*
*Steel-toe boots crunch over yesterday’s dreams.*
*I kiss your photo tucked safe in my coat,*
*While the highway chews miles like a debt I still owe.*
*The boss says, “Overtime’s grace in disguise,”*
*But grace don’t pay for the tears in their eyes—*
*My girls askin’ Mama why storms sound like trains,*
*And my boys swingin’ fists at the air… callin’ my name.*

**Chorus**
*I’m a ghost in the graveyard of “Daddy, come home,”*
*A voice on the phone with a heart made of stone.*
*They’re blowin’ out candles where I should’ve stood,*
*Growin’ up learnin’ that “love” means “no good.”*
*I break my back buildin’ a life they can’t hold,*
*While their laughter turns brittle and the nights grow so cold.*
*God, I’m dyin’ to stay, but the bills scream “GO DRIVE”—*
*So I haunt every mile just to keep them alive.*

**Verse 2**
*You send me a video—zoey’s first dance,*
*Her shoes two sizes too big, clingin’ to chance.*
*I watch it on loop in a truck-stop lot,*
*Whiskey-weak coffee and regrets scaldin’ hot.*
*You’re teachin’ the boys how to tie their ties straight,*
*While I’m countin’ exit signs, drownin’ in freight.*
*They think I chose engines over bedtime stories,*
*But the wolf’s at the door, and it’s feedin’ on glory.*

**Chorus**
*I’m a ghost in the graveyard of “Daddy, come home,”*
*A voice on the phone with a heart made of stone.*
*They’re blowin’ out candles where I should’ve stood,*
*Growin’ up learnin’ that “love” means “no good.”*
*I break my back buildin’ a life they can’t hold,*
*While their laughter turns brittle and the nights grow so cold.*
*God, I’m dyin’ to stay, but the bills scream “GO DRIVE”—*
*So I haunt every mile just to keep them alive.*

**Bridge**
*Last night, my youngest asked, “Is Dad even real?”*
*You choked back the truth like a wound you can’t heal.*
*I’m a shadow that fades ‘fore the porch light comes on,*
*A myth they’ll resent when their childhood’s gone.*
*One day I’ll retire, but time’s a sly thief—*
*They’ll be strangers I raised, lost in their grief.*
*So I’ll clock in again, let the engine roar loud,*
*Prayin’ my absence is love… but doubtin’ out loud.*

**Outro**
*Someday, they’ll find my old lunch pail, rusted,*
*Filled with pay stubs and “Sorry I missed it”s.*
*And maybe they’ll see past the anger, the void—*
*That the ghost in their graveyard…*
*…was a man destroy’d.*