When you finally sit down at the end of the day
And you're drinking your tea that's got cold,
You look over your list of the things left to do
And you feel just a little bit old.
Will there ever be time to get everything done?
Will you struggle like this till you die?
How nice it would be to just walk out that door
And sit somewhere and look at the sky.
Or to soak, head to toe, in a hot bubble bath
With a book and an hour to read.
You remember you used to find time to do that,
Now you don't even have time to breathe.
Oh, it's good now: the family, the life, that you have,
And you wouldn't trade that for the world.
But you wonder if maybe you lost the real you
In the wife, and the boy, and the girl.
No. You'd do it again. Oh, you know that you would.
Though you're tired, sometimes, to the bone.
So you pour out the rest of that cup of cold tea
And you get up and make your way home.
Then you walk through the door and the children are there
And your wife looks at you with a grin.
You can tell that it's gonna be one busy night,
But you're starting to feel good again.
After ballgames and dance class and magic and scouts,
Then you put both the kids in their beds,
You read stories and kiss them and turn the lights out,
As a million things run through your head:
No, you won't ever get to get up and take off,
And just sit somewhere watching the sea.
Cause as tired as you get and as much as you do
There's no way you could ever just leave.
You're a father, a leader, a lover and friend,
And you'll always have too much to do,
But you'll try and slip in a hot bath now and then
And you know that, inside, you're still you.