His woman still persisted, not from stubbornness or spite
But on the firm misapprehension she was keeping us on track
And like an engine through the darkness, she was shining heaven’s light
We were all here at the station, ever waving at her back

And whatever was for supper was a million thoughts away
And the black part tastes the best to me, or it’s been out three days
There may be no grace in the living, but there’s always grace to say

There lives a kind of charm in those who boldly disregard
The din of every disapproval and refusal in their wake
And who recklessly continue for’d to execute their charge
Surely marching ever on for heaven or whatever’s sake

But her charm was not just callused; she was joyful in her ways
She retained a certain buoyancy regardless of her age
Sure, you might not get your point across, is that really why you came?

Heaven knows she made it hard
As she reached for true salvation
I don’t honestly believe
that she even could perceive the situation
For what it’s worth, it wasn’t lack of love
Just lack of obligation

The fruits of their affection mostly harbor discontent
about the quality of rearing that was offered and received
and I dare say those emotions likely don’t misrepresent
the faithful record of their youths, I reckon they can be believed

But they always wear a kindness you can feel from fifty feet
and they’ll try most any pleasure, and they will not be discreet
And they’ll offer you a bite and you’ll be damned if it ain’t sweet

Folks who’ve hurt together tend to sing good harmonies
And though occasional exceptions might lend discord to their tune
They have all been bound by lessons learned upon their bended knees
Making up new prayers to grizzly bears and howling at the moon

When there isn’t laughter to be found it always can be made
When nothing’s really serious it is hard to be betrayed
But a debt will leave a scar weather or not it’s ever paid

Heaven knows she made it hard
As she raised her face toward glory
I don’t know, honestly
Weather she was born with any ears to hear their story
Life’s not always a fair game,
But it appears participation’s mandatory

Certain words hold love like Mona Lisa holds a stare
Call to love the way an apple flower calls a honey bee
Like the name of God upon a tongue in true, devoted prayer
One such holy word is daddy spoken by his progeny

By no means was he untouchable and by no means a saint
His behavior, while respectable, was riddled with mistakes
Still he taught them to be flexible right to the point of breaking

I never knew him well enough to make a deep impression
I’ve got a couple memories that sometimes come awake
But as I look around and what he made, I’m surer than I’m guessin’
That behind it, his impression was it’s all a joke to take