In my youth I spoke up as a pastor
Encouraging a rally cry to kin
A loaf in left and pen in right
A scholar-holler brought to light
I spoke of 3AM to scratch a sin

I said,
“Son, you may find reservation,”
I said,
“Son, you may find a rebel heart,
but if you think it’s fine to be
and grow into a family
then surely there you’ve found a place to start!”

I grabbed my kit and walked right out to college
I grabbed my kit and ran to make my own
The solace bound me brooding by the mountain
A lonely mess of man without a home

I know,
“Son you may find reservation,”
I know,
“Son, you may find a rebel heart,
but if you think it’s fine to be
and grow into a family
then surely there you’ve found a place to start!”

From mountaintop to mossyrock I wandered
My echoed laughter haunting through the wood
I never knew it in my smile
A happy future stays a while
I wouldn’t do it different if I could

I say,
“Son, you may find reservation,”
I say,
“Son, you may find a rebel heart,
but if you make it through to be
a man, a mountain, finally,
you’ll see for sure no better work for art.”