It wasn't one to talk much when we pulled off to schoolI can never tell what's running through his mindIt'd be three more hours until those halls are fullBut long walls don't run on nine to fiveI didn't get it then, every day that man would fightTo punch the clock and make it home aliveHe's got minor imperfectionsBlame it on his lifeBlame it on his rulesCalluses on his handsCord us on his bootsHe's not one for conversationWhen there's work to doThat boss said get paid in cashCompany scripts and newsThem city folks would shame him if he let themBut he's proud of his minor imperfectionsHe's not one to talk much when we pulled off to schoolI can never tell what's running through his mindIt'd be three more hours until those halls are fullI didn't get it then, every day that man would fightTo punch the clock and make it home aliveI didn't get it then, every day that man would shame him if he let themBut he's proud of his minor imperfectionsBlame it on his lifeTo punch the clock and make it home aliveHe's got no place to goHis heart edges cut me deep when I was just a boyI saw his face light up when those grandchildren were bornHis heart edges cut me deep when I was just a boyHe's got minor imperfectionsBlame it on his rulesCalluses on his handsCord us on his bootsHe's not one to talk muchI love conversation when there's work to doHe told me do what you love, misery's a nooseThem city folks would shame him if he let themBut I'm proud of his minor imperfectionI don't mind low coal, but my collar's still staying blueMy kids look up at me the way I looked at himFor those little ones, there's nothing I won't doI hope one day they can understandI've got minor imperfections, I'm proud of my rootsAnd calluses on my hands singing to a roomI'm not a one for conversation when I've got work to doI tell my kids do what you love, your papa told me toThem city folks try to shame me now and thenDon't mind themDon't mind themI'm proud of my minor imperfectionsI'm proud of my minor imperfectionsI'm proud of my minor imperfectionsI'm proud of my minor imperfections