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I used to sit on the stool and watch him shave |
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If my memory is right I was 7 or 8 |
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In the eyes of a child he was no less than great |
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But time would prove anything could change |
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'Cause he was too old fashioned when I was 16 |
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Not near as smart as my buddies and me |
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But the only friend I'd grow up to meet |
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Got called home just shy of 63 |
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Now the man in the mirror looks so familiar |
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He's wearing that same crooked smile |
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Same lines of worry, kids growing up too early |
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And gray hairs from extra miles |
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I thought I'd never see him again |
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But little did I know I'd turn in |
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To the man in the mirror |
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Now I realized just how wise he was |
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Sometimes without talking he still taught us |
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His strong hands of justice would end with a hug |
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He knew nothing was stronger than the power of love |
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I can truthfully say that I know how he felt |
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'Cause just the other night when my son needed help |
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When I fixed his little plane with the one piece left |
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He looked at me in a way I never saw myself |
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Now the man in the mirror looks so familiar |
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He's wearing that same crooked smile |
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The same lines of worry, kids growing up too early |
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And gray hairs from extra miles |
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I thought I'd never see him again |
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But little did I know I'd turn in |
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To the man in the mirror |
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I thought I'd never see him again |
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Little did I know I'd turn in |
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To the man in the mirror |
