Your daughter's eyes are blue just like her dad's,
Bright and beautiful
And her cheeks are like roses on a vine,
Red that spreads from ear to ear.
And I should never come here and tear
This joy with all my misery.
What will your daughter think of me?

My eyes are brown like dirt and clay,
So rough and worn and broken down.
My skin is carved with every sin, I could lie
And hope you'd never see.
But can you see how weathered is my house of cards,
And how my heart pumps bloody pain and suffering?
I'm ashamed to hear your loving words.

Your daughter's eyes are warm like yours,
And her hands will hold on just as tight.
If she should ever see clouds and rain,
I pray she'll believe in the stillness to come,
And she'll love like God had taught you once.
If I fade into my misery,
What will your daughter think of me?