Daddy was a skywriter Momma was a rock-stemmed rose Papa shaped this place with grease and grace Momma loved me I been told it shows Tried and true as the color of his collar His eyes grew bluer as he searched for words But words are crumbs and the lesson of a father Is how to hack your way through the hunger and the birds Hopefully they're right about the pen being mightier That any weapon anyone'll wield But where they mark off men with the cross of a pen I'll carry my old man's steel Daddy was a skywriter... She said build your house on the solid rock of Jesus Fool to choose the sand of sin I run out and sign myself a long lease On a little place made of rain and wind But she learned me pretty good about the CouldaWouldaShoulda And the cripplin weight of a crutch She wasn't dead on about every little thing But she weren't dead wrong about much Daddy was a skywriter