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