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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1876467
Rated: E · Lyrics · Parenting · #1876467
First draft of my very first lyrics. Based on a father and his son. May change regularly.
First Draft, may change

Walking in the fields, holding your hand,
The growing wheat, blends in with the color of your hair.
We went to the plains, lie here in the rain,
You look at the fish in the lake.

Time is running by,
It ends nearly when it starts,
And there is no turning back.


Later on at the match, with your cap and your bat,
You strike.
Daddy is proud of you,
No matter what.

Time is running by,
It ends nearly when it starts,
And there is no turning back.


You are now fifteen, you are leaving me,
She went to collect you, she took you away.
I sneezed, I cried, I tried to sweep away our memories.

Time is running by,
It ends nearly when it starts,
And there is no turning back.

I’m eighty, you’re forty,
You’ve got a son of your own, that you’ve never shown,
I’m in my room, alone, and I think,
We’ll he do to you what you’ve done to me?

Time is running by,
It ends nearly when it starts,
And there is no turning back.

My heart let go, the doctors said no,
I am gone. On this sorrowful day, you give me flowers,
But I would have preferred a son, a grand-son.
Instead of chrysanthums.

Time is running by,
It ends nearly when it starts,
And there is no turning back,
And there is no turning back,
there is no tur-ning back,
© Copyright 2012 Ron. B. (thewriter2 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1876467