If you look at his hands, you look at his life.
Full of scars and full of warmth.
They carried the wood, the steel, and the water.
They carried the children
They're the hands of a father.
Brick by brick, ground to sky
He'll show each stone, he'll tell you each story
It is a masterpiece, a novel, a portrait
Constructed and polished and brought to life
His hands may look tattered
Yet noble and true
A life built with hands
A home we can belong to.