She raises me on pedestals like a pharaoh, or a king.
Nothing ever touches me; I’m her hero, my praise she’ll sing.
She thinks I stride my chosen path to sweep all fears away, and will not ever suffer strife; I’ll scare the demons away.
In truth I’m just a man, a fraud, no god like powers. I work hard to remain her idol, by putting in the hours.
Fair faith such as hers makes the cynic in me glad, her surging spirit carries me, and makes me proud that I’m her Dad.