Weed

Name-brand seeds, tested and proven, resistant to blight.
Sign next to each field, telling the world its pedigree.
Soybeans, alfalfa, corn, stretching toward the light.
He plants them. They grow. He knows what he will see.

A farmer, that's my dad, brown as the land, tough as a tree.
A hard man, not a mean man, but he ain't fond of weeds.

He married his love and planted a son and I grew,
According to somebody's plan for the progress of the breed.
I gave him a hell of a time, but ain't that what boys do?
Grew like a weed, could've been a sign, like a wild weed.

Sometimes what you plant is what you reap
Other times you get a throwback or a weed.
A son that loves another man's son, loves him deep,
Ain't gonna make no progress for the breed.

The old man ain't pleased with what he reared.
He keeps it a secret from the congregation.
No proud sign next to me, "Grandkids Growing Here."
No booties getting knit in anticipation.

When they take themselves to church on a Sunday morn,
They pray for correction for their messed-up seed.
'Stead of a straight upwardly-mobile field of semi-white corn
Up came a patch of wandering, man-loving Indian weed.

A farmer, that's my dad, brown as the land, tough as a tree.
A disappointed man. That's a sorry sight to see, but I'm still me.

Burns Like Ice

Time heals, if you can wait so long, they say
I stand and watch the thread of life,
A vein on the wind, streaming away
Red as the sunset, making crystals of snow
Time streams out, and snowdrifts form below

Long ago we burned the sky so bright
One day you turned to ice, your molten eyes as light
As winter moon on fields of frozen blue
Now your touch is cold but I still long for you
Ice burns like fire, so I still burn for you

Time does not heal me, I stream away
And snow keeps falling on my winter days
Melt for me, before my heat is gone
Warm my eyelids like the summer sun
Blow me a spark to set the sky ablaze

Long ago we burned the sky so bright
One day you turned to ice, your molten eyes as light
As winter moon on fields of frozen blue
Now your touch is cold but I still long for you
Ice burns like fire, so I still burn for you.