(Verse 1) In the early dawn light, I see him there, Grandpa’s old hands, weathered from care, As the rooster crows, he calls my name, In the fields of corn, life stays the same. (Verse 2) I remember the scent of fresh cut hay, With each blade of grass, memories play, Grandpa told stories of the Great Dust Bowl, As we tilled the earth, he poured out his soul. (Chorus) Oh, the wheel of time keeps turning, With each season, new life keeps burning, From grandpa to father, then down to me, In these fields of time, we plant the legacy. (Verse 3) Dad's hands are strong, he’s a working man, With sweat on his brow, he dreams of our land, He taught me to sow, to reap what we’ve grown, In this simple life, I’ve never felt alone. (Verse 4) I recall the taste of sweet summer corn, Biting through kernels, a childhood reborn, We’d laugh as we’d feast on that porch at dusk, As the fireflies danced, it was all we could trust. (Chorus) Oh, the wheel of time keeps turning, With each season, new life keeps burning, From grandpa to father, then down to me, In these fields of time, we plant the legacy. (Bridge) Now I’m planting seeds with my own little boy, Teaching him hard work, and simple joys, We share in the silence, the songs of the night, Underneath the stars, everything feels right. (Verse 5) One day he’ll hear the stories I weave, Of hard days and laughter, of all we believe, In each row we plant, our roots go so deep, The love we’ve sown, in our hearts it will keep. (Chorus) Oh, the wheel of time keeps turning, With each season, new life keeps burning, From grandpa to father, then down to me, In these fields of time, we plant the legacy. (Outro) So here’s to the days, we’ll never forget, In the fields of time, we have no regrets, With hands in the soil, our love is defined, In this cycle of life, our hearts intertwined. (Verse 5) One day he’ll hear the stories I weave, Of hard days and laughter, of all we believe, In each row we plant, our roots go so deep, The love we’ve sown, in our hearts it will keep. (Chorus) Oh, the wheel of time keeps turning, With each season, new life keeps burning, From grandpa to father, then down to me, In these fields of time, we plant the legacy. (Outro) So here’s to the days, we’ll never forget, In the fields of time, we have no regrets, With hands in the soil, our love is defined, In this cycle of life, our hearts intertwined.
