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My old man is a lonely tree |
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Sitting on a branch in a lonely sea |
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When I first met him I thought how |
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Could he have let my mother down |
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But my old man he came to see me |
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He put his hand in mine and said he loved me |
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Well I was burned up with ill feeling |
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But his eyes they said it all |
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I forgave him for his fall |
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And in the summer he's a summer breeze |
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Shooting at all his possibilities |
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He prays to god to fix him up |
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But he plays with the devil to fill his cup |
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My old man is good at singing |
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He plays the guitar like Carlos Santana should have done |
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To be a broken man it hurts his feelings |
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But we are what we have done |
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Sweet souls setting in the sun |
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My old man is as soft as rain |
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Humming through the night to forget his pain |
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It runs through the family from what I hear |
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But it only draws me near |
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My old man is good at singing |
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He plays the guitar like Carlos Santana should have done |
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To be a broken man it hurts his feelings |
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But we are what we have done |
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Sweet souls setting in the sun. |
