Leelin'
on the teapots,
my eyes up
on the sky
When I'm meant
to be splicing broken wire The meadowlark
is singing
her old familiar
tune Her melody surpasses that of mine
And how could I try now to sing a song
When the good Lord's smallest creature
Can prune it out so strong
That I should
be comparing
His handiwork
with mine
But I hope
the Lord don't mind
For for a time
Later on that evening,
just banging down the road
The sun bets down the kids,
the planes get night
The air takes on a coolness,
and the west wind starts to blow
It's pushing the
rain cloud into sight And how could I try now to tell the tale
When the sky tells straight morning An evening without fail
That I should
be comparing His handiwork
with mine
But I hope
the Lord don't mind For for a time
Yes,
I hope
the Lord don't mind For for a time