Daddy was a skywriter

Momma was a rock-stemmed rose

Papa shaped this place with grease and grace

Momma loved me I been told it shows

Tried and true as the color of his collar

His eyes grew bluer as he searched for words

But words are crumbs and the lesson of a father

Is how to hack your way through the hunger and the birds

Hopefully they're right about the pen being mightier

That any weapon anyone'll wield

But where they mark off men with the cross of a pen

I'll carry my old man's steel

Daddy was a skywriter...

She said build your house on the solid rock of Jesus

Fool to choose the sand of sin

I run out and sign myself a long lease

On a little place made of rain and wind

But she learned me pretty good about the CouldaWouldaShoulda

And the cripplin weight of a crutch

She wasn't dead on about every little thing

But she weren't dead wrong about much

Daddy was a skywriter