Greg Winkler: Music

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Two years old, my father said to me
“Son, you’ll be a real fine man someday.”
Twenty nine, I set my father free
On to sky and on to greener pastures
The view I had will never slip away
All the while my thoughts are racing faster
With shaded dreams of tomorrow’s yesterdays
I fill my lungs with my father’s air
I find that I am losing all my father’s hair
The faces of my educated self all disappear
My father calls me on the phone and says,
“It’s a beautiful day out here.”
Maple Rag, Joplin’s big selection
Kansas fields of barns and wheat and hay
An honest try approaching true perfection
Shadows fall across the broken ground
Shadows break when nightfall comes around
Sunny days and great soprano singers
Lift the shade to the point of discovering great joy
I fill my lungs with my father’s air
I find that I am losing all my father’s hair
The faces of my educated self all disappear
My father calls me on the phone and says,
“It’s a beautiful day out here.”
I fill my lungs with my father’s air
I find that I am losing all my father’s hair
The faces of my educated self all disappear
My father calls me on the phone and says,
“It’s a beautiful day out here.”
©2003 Lyrics and Music by Greg Winkler