The story behind this song
He checked your oil every time you left, tapped the hood twice to mean drive safe, slipped a twenty in your coat for gas and cleared his throat. His handshake was a paragraph. His call your mother was an I miss you wearing camouflage. He came from a generation that fixed things instead of saying them, and the saying part stayed in the toolbox.
Then one day you catch yourself tapping your own kid's hood, and finally say it out loud. For the son who learned his father's language late and wants to break the silence — even now, even once.
Lyrics
You'd just nod from the porch
That was your whole speech
That was your whole speech
You checked my oil every time I left
Tapped the hood twice — that meant drive safe
You'd slip a twenty in my coat
"For gas," you'd grunt, and clear your throat
Men like you fixed things instead of saying them
The saying part stayed in the toolbox then
Tapped the hood twice — that meant drive safe
You'd slip a twenty in my coat
"For gas," you'd grunt, and clear your throat
Men like you fixed things instead of saying them
The saying part stayed in the toolbox then
I learned your language late
Now I'm fluent, and you can't hear
Now I'm fluent, and you can't hear
I love you, Dad — I wish I'd said it more
Not just mumbled at the door
You showed it in a thousand silent ways
Now I'm shouting it too late
But maybe late still counts for something true
So here it is, all of it: I love you
I wish I'd said it more
Not just mumbled at the door
You showed it in a thousand silent ways
Now I'm shouting it too late
But maybe late still counts for something true
So here it is, all of it: I love you
I wish I'd said it more
Your handshake was a paragraph
Your "call your mother" was an "I miss you" wearing camouflage
At the hospital you squeezed my hand
Twice — like the hood of the car — and I finally understand
You were saying it the whole way through
I just never said it back to you
Your "call your mother" was an "I miss you" wearing camouflage
At the hospital you squeezed my hand
Twice — like the hood of the car — and I finally understand
You were saying it the whole way through
I just never said it back to you
I learned your language late
Now I'm fluent, and you can't hear
Now I'm fluent, and you can't hear
I love you, Dad — I wish I'd said it more
Not just mumbled at the door
You showed it in a thousand silent ways
Now I'm shouting it too late
But maybe late still counts for something true
So here it is, all of it: I love you
I wish I'd said it more
Not just mumbled at the door
You showed it in a thousand silent ways
Now I'm shouting it too late
But maybe late still counts for something true
So here it is, all of it: I love you
I wish I'd said it more
Last night my boy left for the coast
I checked his oil, tapped the hood
Then I caught myself — your ghost —
And I said it out loud, clear and slow
He looked at me the way I'd look at you
Dad, the chain breaks here. You'd want it to
I checked his oil, tapped the hood
Then I caught myself — your ghost —
And I said it out loud, clear and slow
He looked at me the way I'd look at you
Dad, the chain breaks here. You'd want it to
I love you, Dad — I say it now for both of us
Out loud, no camouflage, no fuss
You showed it in a thousand silent ways
I carry every one of those days
And if you're listening somewhere down the road
Here it is, all of it: I love you
Consider it finally told
Out loud, no camouflage, no fuss
You showed it in a thousand silent ways
I carry every one of those days
And if you're listening somewhere down the road
Here it is, all of it: I love you
Consider it finally told
Two taps on the hood
Drive safe, old man
I understood
Drive safe, old man
I understood
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