Honeybee

On the day that my old man was born He couldn't realize his world was torn A Great Depression lay up around the bend His dad worked all night just to make amends Worked himself to the bone just to make amends On the day that my old man turned 3 He learned a bitter lesson of the honeybee It was a wound he'd carry just like a stone Looking for sweetness coming from the honeycomb Looking for sweetness coming from the honeycomb On the day my old man turned 16 He'd come to know that he was thought unclean Had to drink his water from a different well Some folks cursed his young bitter soul to hell Some folks cursed his young bitter soul And when I think of my old man I know I failed to understand Anything of his heavens or his hells Because me I was a rebel son A wicked wit a wild tongue It'd sure be nice if I could speak to him right now Maybe work it out somehow On the day my old man first held me He had a nervous smile and a tear-stained cheek Prayed to God that maybe he could make things right Bring some sweetness here to this newborn life Bring some sweetness here to this newborn life Well I'm older now I think I understand The bitterness that ate at my old man Seems the wound he got was handed down to me Got that same old lesson from the honeybee Got that same old sting from the honeybee Seems that my old man was a lot like me