Me me me me
See see see see
I'm I'm I'm I'm
Mine mine mine mine
I I I I
Lie lie lie lie
My my my my
I've I've I've I've
I'd I'd I'd I'd
Lied lied lied lied
You
That's enough of you

I'm the King of wrong
So I'm told
Everyone reminds me
Young and old

They're good odds
50/50, wrong or right
I'll pick wrong every time
Every day and every night

I'd eat a bullet
And end this pain
But I'd get no satisfaction
In you being right again

It's Friday night,
I've got a game
We play the Indians,
My best friend's team

My uniform's on
It's only 4 o'clock
Mom says we leave
5:30 on the dot

Tonight's our first game
I'm fast in my new cleats
My glove's broken-in
'cause I've slept on it for weeks

I'm still a little nervous,
but not about playing
I'm wondering which girls are there
and what I'm going to be saying

I picked up a brush
and 80 bucks worth of paint.
After a few tries, I know
that kind of artist I ain't

So I will paint a picture
in your head
with the words
that I write instead

I'll start with the sky...
use your imagination
blue, blue like
the first day of summer vacation

Next is the grass,
tall and green
The breeze makes it wave
and the sun makes it sheen

Just beyond the grass
are the sand dunes
and just above that
a seagull looms

The air is sweet
with the scent of the ocean
and the coconut
in my suntan lotion

The sun is warm
and bright
I have to squint to see
that little boy's kite

I crest the dune,
and there is the sea
The waves crash and foam
and softly roar at me

I wade in; it is quite cold
Now let's sign this in the sand
where the waves hit the shore
and sea meets the air and the land

Now step back and look
What a wonderful view!
And the canvas can go wherever
because it is in you

before the bullet it bit
before the candle is lit
before the last call
before the curtain falls
before the grave we pray
there is something I must say

before taps is played
before the jazz parade
before 21 guns sound
before the final round
before the fiddler we pay
this I must convey

before the sweet by and by
before the tears we cry
before the bells are rung
before the reaper come
before angels wing
I have to tell you
everything....everything...everything

I walk the land
the forest, the soil, the sand

I see the marks of man
fields, roads, and dams

I wonder how it was before
my father, grandfather and more

With work, sweat and back sore
shaped it to grow crops galore

Generations made this sprawl
wider than a crows call

I lean down and find an arrowhead
and without gall
realize this land isn't ours after all

Get a shovel and the potato ***
Dig some worms, to the pond we'll go

With a rusty can full of crawlers and grubs,
a grasshopper or cricket I'd catch near the scrubs

"That's what that old bass wants" he'd say
and with a cane pole and bucket we're on our way

"Gettin close don't make a sound,
the fish here are timid"
as he put the bucket softly on the ground

"Get a worm and sneak over next to that stump,
yesterday that's were I saw the big one jump"

"Sling it out there easy....and about this deep,
watch that cork and don't make a peep"

"If it bobs then let him nibble a bit,
If it goes under then you've got a hit"

I want to catch a five pound-er, boy I wish!
Pop says you have to have patience to fish

Now, he has two big fish and I had one "almost" keeper
Maybe I need to set the hook a little deeper.

I've tried the worm, the grub, and the grasshopper,
and the cricket was taken by the bass grand pap-pa

I aint caught nothin and it's nearly night
Dad says it cause I'm not holding my mouth right

We pick up the stuff and head up under the big pine,
I've got two fish to clean and they aren't even mine

That's alright with me, because I've learned a great deal
Fishing with Dad is for the soul...not for the meal