Dogwood Winter

Well a man can make a living,
Or live it howling at the moon,
Where a soul is made for giving,
A soul is taken much too soon,

They don’t pay us for our brains,
Barely compensate our backs,
Lord, it matters just the same,
When you’re staggering the tracks,

I never had it in me,
The quality of life,
Where the sunset rocks to sleep,
The same it rises on the peak,
No, I never had it in me,
The quality of life,
Where the sunset puts a man to sleep,
And leaves the weary still to weep,

I’ve burnt his share of ‘bacco,
And midnight oil to boot,
Forsaken my creator,
Rejected all my roots,

I’ve chopped his share of grain,
While never looking back,
Yet here I stand, a hurricane,
His name, letters on a plaque,

I never had it in me,
The quality of life,
Where the sunset rocks to sleep,
The same it rises on the peak,
No, I never had it in me,
The quality of life,
Where the sunset puts a man to sleep,
And leaves the weary still to weep,

Lord, this Dogwood Winter,
It doesn’t seem so fair,
Your son must have bore the sprinters,
On that cross that’s his own to bare,

Vindictive though my thoughts may seem,
I prayed hardest at his loss,
That I may live up to his clean,
And compensate the cost,

I never had it in me,
The quality of life,
Where the sunset rocks to sleep,
The same it rises on the peak,
No, I never had it in me,
The quality of life,
Where the sunset puts a man to sleep,
And leaves the weary still to weep,