What I Didn'T Have

At sixty-three you don't plan to be raising kids again
But there they were parked by the curb and waving, climb on in
And that little old house we were driving to was the first that felt like home
It was a whole lot more like family and less like a war zone
I was the baby of their baby
And it must have hurt like crazy
Their reasons for taking me

Well, there was always something on the dinner table
And an old tin roof over my head
My clothes might have never had the newest label
But their faith carried me like a truck bed
For everything they gave up, we never ran out of love
And that was more than enough and now looking back
Yeah, we might have been broke at the end of our rope
But you'd never know what I didn't have

They used to smile at me and promise he would sober up
I didn't talk bad about my dad 'cause he was still their son
And I knew their hearts were breaking
They couldn't save him but they saved me
Oh, oh

Well, there was always something on the dinner table
And an old tin roof over my head
My clothes might have never had the newest label
But their faith carried me like a truck bed
For everything they gave up, we never ran out of love
And that was more than enough and now looking back
Yeah, we might have been broke at the end of our rope
But you'd never know what I didn't have
What I didn't have

Made the best of a no-good circumstance
Maybe we were each other's second chance

Last night, I heard them pray for me from what was once his room
Statistics say some people change but Dad didn't make it through
I watched them lose their baby
And god, it hurt like crazy
Somehow, they still gave me
What I didn't have
What I didn't have
What I didn't have