Text:
Darrell Scott Theatre Of The Unheard

Look at the hand that made the steel That raised the kids, that shouldered the wheel And taught a man how not to feel | At six o?clock in the morning

I can feel it when the wind blows Stealing leaves out of their trees It?s a moment full of mystery Summer?s last breath before the freeze But the change

Dad never started drinking ?til he was thirty-five And once he found the power He made up for his lost time Go outside and catch a cricket, then unplug

Sally took a ride with my kid brother Made her sister swear that she wouldn?t tell her mother Drove to the desert, got a room with a pool outside And

I grew up on the Indiana side of Chicago With the rusty steel mills belching in the westward wind I watched Mom and Dad trying to clean their sorrow

He was not my father?s brother But he wished that he could be Told us kids to call him uncle And we would be his family He had a wife and kids in Fresno