While he knew that she was drinking,
he had no idea how much...
somehow through the years his little girl
and he had just lost touch.
She had picked a tough new boyfriend
and ran with a tougher crowd,
he'd put up with their weird tattoos
but their music was too loud.
It was Friday when she told him
that she planned to stay all night
with her girlfriend, "We've got tickets
to a band concert. Alright?
She's got wheels, Dad, so don't worry,
I won't even need the car,
and the concert's close to her house,
so it won't be very far."
How he loved his wayward daughter,
he could rarely tell her No...
he just sighed, "Please don't stay out late,
come home right after the show."
Then she kissed him on the cheek
and smiled, "I'll see you in the morn,"
grabbed her bag, skipped out the front door,
as her girlfriend honked the horn.
With her gone, the house was quiet
so he mixed himself a drink,
he had work that he'd brought home
and now he had some time to think.
Things were hectic at his business,
he was always far behind,
with no free time to himself
he sometimes thought he'd lose his mind.
He had conked off when the telephone's
shrill ring gave him a start,
then he heard the dreaded news
that almost stopped his beating heart:
"Sir, your girl's been in an accident,"
was what the policeman said,
"I'm so sorry to inform you, sir,
but your daughter is dead."
In a haze he got the details:
seems they'd only left the band,
the cops found a liquor bottle
firmly clutched in her right hand.
She was driving way too fast
and had no time to miss the deer,
the kind cop gave further details
but the father didn't hear.
Rage took over, "She's just 13!
She can't buy booze in this state!
Find the one who sold her liquor!"
and his voice broke off in hate...
"I'll find him and then I'll kill him!
I'll not rest until I do!
Make his loved ones feel this anger!
Make them all pay when I'm through!"
Weeping now, he saw a note taped
to the liquor cabinet door,
and he saw a missing bottle,
he'd not noticed it before.
In a daze he reached the cabinet,
the last ounce of strength he had,
and he read his girl's short message:
this was all it said, "Thanks, Dad!"
Now the hours drag ever slowly
and she's always in his head,
every minute, every second,
how he wishes he were dead.
Till one night they found his body,
the whole town remarked, "How sad!"
In his hand, a loaded pistol,
and a note that read, "Thanks, Dad!"
Make no provision for the lusts of the flesh.
(Based on Romans 13:14)