This Lyric is #151

Steve Brown © 2003

Weeping willow in the front yard
Never seemed so all alone
Those who tell you that the leaving’s tough
Have never tried the coming home

No one comes around to this old place
I always planned to come by soon
Used to call and ask him how he was
Every Sunday afternoon
He’d say

Better, better
I’ve been better

Its been longer than I’d care to tell
I’ve set my feet upon this porch
I can close my eyes and hear him yell
“Son, don’t you slam that door”

Neither one of us would give an inch
We argued every chance we got
I knew he worked long nights at Grayson’s mill
I never knew how hard he fought
To make life

Better, better
to make it better

I never heard the conversations
Or knew just what he’d sacrificed
To give his children more than he had
He lived his life
To make mine

Better, better
to make it better

Gravel driveway and a meadowlark
And that weeping willow tree
This old place was everything he had
And he left it all to me

I never understood a thing he did
‘Til I had children of my own
Now I go out Sunday afternoons
And make a promise to a stone
That I’ll do

Better, better
I’ll be better