(Painting by Robert Wood “Texas Hill Country”)
As the generation that helped shape us slowly fade away into memory
We steel ourselves against the coming storm with the legacy they buried for us
Out past the hill country draw, where the coyotes sing and the night bird sleeps
Though my head be weary I cannot falter a step my children
For I am the next generation to bury my legacy deep and remote
Somewhere secret where only the penitent man will pass