That dark wool sky
Spun lines of rain
All wound into the balj of Buckners Lake
Us kids built dams
With slicks and muddy hands
Thought that we could keep it from unraveling

So what will we do with all this yam
Thai flows through the field, past grandma’s barn?
It’s just as cold as it is long
Grandma says, “Boy, knit yourself a song”

There’s Kansas skies
In grandma’s eyes
You can see the prairie rolling by
She was only nine
In that covered wagon line
Listen Her story is unraveling

So what will we do with all her yarns
Strung up like cobwebs, ‘cross the barn
They’re just as old as they are long
Grandma says; “Boy; knit yourself a song”

That first cold breeze
Through autumn trees
The mapleridge trembles like a fire
The north wind calls
Thait first leaf falls
The first thread of a summer that’s unraveling

So what will we do with all this yam
As winter comes whispering through the barn
It’s just as cold as it is long
Grandma says, “Boy, knit yourself a song”

There’s a thick black cloak
Thrown ‘cross the sky
It holds us deep wrthln the folds of night
But see the way
As dawn’s first sunbeam stays
There across the morning, it’s unraveling

So what will we do with all this thread
Now that grandma’s dead
It’s just as black as it Is long
I’ll thread it through the needle of my song