Like my old man, I'm of my hands. It's all we can afford,
But we can't afford to lose.
The rhythm and ryhme of nickel and dime. A carpenter by trade.
But his heart is in the woods.
My Ma, she is a teacher down the road from my home.
She teaches the kids to read and write, and read and write they do.
And live like birds that will not sing,
Their crippled flight, their broken wings.
No, not I.
Like lucid dreams, I've hoped to see
Those frosted fields and frozen seas
Before I die.
Late at night, little terrors keeping me awake
I surrender to them all.
Through the day, make their way and settle in
To the shadows on the wall.
Will they align, or just collide?
Maybe they'll just explode.
Plotting their course, they point true north
Maybe they'll lead me home.
I'm searching for the safest place
For clarity, for finding peace,
Within my soul.
Ensnared beneath the scattered leaves,
The twisted branch of family trees.
My roots, their blood.
Teach me how to live.
Show me how to give.
Before I leave.