Twenty-Six Winters

michael_a_streeter

Maren River

michael_a_streeter

country folk, Americana, country ballad

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V5.5

[Intro]
(Warm fingerpicked acoustic guitar, subtle, delicate banjo rolls, soft upright bass)

[Verse 1]
I’ve got twenty-six years of kitchen counter dust
And two growing girls who learned early to trust
That a boots-on-the-porch kind of morning was sweet
Even if it was borrowed and bitter-brief.
I held down the fort while you held down the line,
Marking the calendar, counting down time.

[Verse 2]
*(Gentle mandolin enters, soft brushed snare)*
I raised 'em up strong in this small-town air,
Braiding their hair through a mother’s lone prayer.
You were an ocean away or in a dusty part of the world,
You would leave every Fall, and never see the clover.
And the years kept on turning like wheels on the car,
Two little girls growing older each day.

[Chorus]
(Soaring, emotional vocal harmonies, subtle fiddle swells, soft piano)
Oh, we squeezed a whole life into weekends and a military leave,
Laughing too loud just to keep from the grief.
Even when you were home, half your mind was still gone,
With the ghost of the march and the sound of the dawn.
But we danced in the kitchen, we lived our life fast,
Making thirty short days feel like thirty years had past.

[Verse 3]
(Acoustic guitar and gentle banjo lead)
They look like you now when they stand in the light,
The same quiet eyes, the same resolute might.
They grew up between all your "goings" and "comings,"
To the beat of a distant, and invisible drum.
I had to play mother and father, the anchor and shore,
I watched the horizon from our front door.

[Chorus]
(Full-band dynamic, warm upright bass, rich harmonies)
'Cause we squeezed a whole life into weekends and a military leave,
Laughing too loud just to keep from the grief.
Even when you were home, half your mind was still gone,
With the ghost of the march and the sound of the dawn.
But we danced in the kitchen, we lived our life fast,
Making thirty short days feel like thirty years had past.

[Bridge]
(Stripped back: Solo acoustic guitar, soft fiddle, intimate vocal)
Twenty-six winters, now the uniform’s hung,
and the medals are boxed, the hard songs are sung.
You’re finally standing right here in the room…
And we’re learning to heal under this quiet Texas moon.

[Chorus]
(Soaring, emotionally powerful, restrained full percussion)
Yeah, we squeezed a whole life into weekends and a military leave,
Holding on tight to what we could believe.
Now the boots on the porch are here for the stay,
No more counting the hours or chasing the day.
We danced through the waiting, we lived our live's fast,
Making every small second forever to last.

[Outro]
(Music fades to delicate fingerpicked banjo and soft piano)
Twenty-six years...
Our Two daughters are grown...
Welcome back home.
(Fiddle holds a single, long, bittersweet final note)
(Fade out)
[END].

2782/7500

[Intro] (Warm fingerpicked acoustic guitar, subtle, delicate banjo rolls, soft upright bass) [Verse 1] I’ve got twenty-six years of kitchen counter dust And two growing girls who learned early to trust That a boots-on-the-porch kind of morning was sweet Even if it was borrowed and bitter-brief. I held down the fort while you held down the line, Marking the calendar, counting down time. [Verse 2] *(Gentle mandolin enters, soft brushed snare)* I raised 'em up strong in this small-town air, Braiding their hair through a mother’s lone prayer. You were an ocean away or in a dusty part of the world, You would leave every Fall, and never see the clover. And the years kept on turning like wheels on the car, Two little girls growing older each day. [Chorus] (Soaring, emotional vocal harmonies, subtle fiddle swells, soft piano) Oh, we squeezed a whole life into weekends and a military leave, Laughing too loud just to keep from the grief. Even when you were home, half your mind was still gone, With the ghost of the march and the sound of the dawn. But we danced in the kitchen, we lived our life fast, Making thirty short days feel like thirty years had past. [Verse 3] (Acoustic guitar and gentle banjo lead) They look like you now when they stand in the light, The same quiet eyes, the same resolute might. They grew up between all your "goings" and "comings," To the beat of a distant, and invisible drum. I had to play mother and father, the anchor and shore, I watched the horizon from our front door. [Chorus] (Full-band dynamic, warm upright bass, rich harmonies) 'Cause we squeezed a whole life into weekends and a military leave, Laughing too loud just to keep from the grief. Even when you were home, half your mind was still gone, With the ghost of the march and the sound of the dawn. But we danced in the kitchen, we lived our life fast, Making thirty short days feel like thirty years had past. [Bridge] (Stripped back: Solo acoustic guitar, soft fiddle, intimate vocal) Twenty-six winters, now the uniform’s hung, and the medals are boxed, the hard songs are sung. You’re finally standing right here in the room… And we’re learning to heal under this quiet Texas moon. [Chorus] (Soaring, emotionally powerful, restrained full percussion) Yeah, we squeezed a whole life into weekends and a military leave, Holding on tight to what we could believe. Now the boots on the porch are here for the stay, No more counting the hours or chasing the day. We danced through the waiting, we lived our live's fast, Making every small second forever to last. [Outro] (Music fades to delicate fingerpicked banjo and soft piano) Twenty-six years... Our Two daughters are grown... Welcome back home. (Fiddle holds a single, long, bittersweet final note) (Fade out) [END].

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