My Father’s Son – Dan Colehour – letras

old white washed barn door, rain rusted tinstraw-packed shirt and blue jeans,hanging in the windthere’s never time for these bones to mendup before the sun dries the frost on my fieldsi’ve got this diesel burning,turning these four wheelsacross this land i’ve been handed downfeel my roots run deep in this groundchorus:so stand me up, tall in this seatand lord help me guide, this plow beneath my feetand turn this earth over one more time…some say this way of life is donenot for my father’s sonthree generations before i ever camecut back these timbers and bet their lives on grainand i wanna see just once, before i dieus doing more than just barely getting by…yeachorusnow and then i walk my fence down by old county roadand i watch the cars go rushing by and disappear like ghostsout where the sky meets the amber waveswell i’m a rock in this land god madechorus