When I was little, "anything for daddy" meant sitting quietly in his workshop just to be near him. It meant handing him the wrong wrench and watching him fake a smile anyway. It meant believing he was invincible—a superhero without a cape, just a worn-out leather belt and a cup of black coffee.
Anything for Daddy
Because he gave me everything. His youth. His dreams. His weekends. His back. anything for daddy
I remember watching his hands. Thick, calloused knuckles stained with grease or paint from a long day’s work. Those hands never rested. They built the roof over my head, tightened the bolts on my bicycle, and wiped away tears I was too proud to admit I had. When I was little, "anything for daddy" meant
Anything for the man who taught me how to stand, even when the world tried to knock me down. Anything for Daddy Because he gave me everything