This Lyric is #164

If Heaven Allows
(c)Billy Ray Jarrell/Willie McCulloch2003

The smell of hot coffee on a faint push of wind
The creak of warm leather in my hand
And the freedom to choose
What I win and what I lose
Simple blessings that few understand

The rhythm of the prairie is as old as the dust
That covers the saddles and spurs
And the size of the sky
Is a constant surprise
When the moon decides heaven is hers

Tales sung by the Indian tribes
Lullabies born of the land
Words of the poets fail to describe
The peace when we make no demands

If life is a measure of what we deserve
May I live in the canyons and hills
Where my spirit can ride
With the wind at my side
If heaven allows it I will

Tales sung by the Indian tribes
Lullabies born of the land
Words of the poets fail to describe
The peace when we make no demands

If life is a measure of what we deserve
May I live in the canyons and hills
Where my spirit can ride
With the wind at my side
If heaven allows it I will
If heaven allows it I will
©Willie McCulloch/Billy Ray Jarrell2003