Saturday Stream Lease

{fingerpicked acoustic guitar intro} {gently weeping pedal

steel} {quiet

fiddle

swell}

Wake up early Saturday morning,

get the coffee in a cup,

Get dressed, throw my boots on,

the sun is coming up.

Grab my rod, my reel,

and my old tackle box,

Throw it all in the bed of that beat-up pickup truck.

Point the hood toward those hills where the creek runs clear,

Every winding mile reminds me why I come out here.

It took some time getting up there,

But every mile gave me time to think.

About this life that’s moving faster

Than we’d ever like to believe.

I’m forty-three, just a man chasing dreams,

Standing knee-deep in an old mountain stream.

Only the Good Lord knows how many years I’ve got,

Every sunrise is a gift that can’t be bought.

One day I’ll be gone,

flying through the clouds,

With my family praising God,

singing loud. Till then I’ll thank Him for every breath I breathe,

And every fish that bites this Saturday stream.

Finally made it to that little fishing hole,

Unloaded everything and took life slow.

Put the reel on the rod,

tied a little fly,

Sent it drifting where the cool waters glide.

Not but a few seconds,

that line got tight,

That old fish hit like he’d been waiting all night.

Life ain’t measured by the money that you make,

Or all the things that you leave behind someday.

It’s quiet mornings, mountain air,

and a thankful heart,

Knowing every blessing came from God above.

I’m forty-three, and I’m grateful today,

For these mountain roads and this simple way.

When my time comes and this old world lets me go,

I’ll leave these hills with peace in my soul.

Till that day I’ll cast another line,

Watch God’s creation one more time.

Thank You, Lord, for the life You’ve given me,

And this little Saturday morning stream.

Wake up early Saturday morning…

coffee in my cup… One more cast,

one more prayer… That’s enough for me.

{gently fading acoustic guitar

trail}