Book of John

We were sittin' round the supper table

And the buzz of the frigid air

Was the only sound til Mama laid down

A book she found upstairs

It was covered in dust in the back of the closet

Goodwill box

We almost tossed it out

We could've lost all those memories

There was a picture of Mama in the pourin' rain

Ticket stubs to a Braves game

Silver Star and a baggage claim

From Hanoi, Vietnam

There was a picture of 'em crawlin' on Grandpa

Leather skin from a baseball

We laughed and cried

Told stories all night long

From the Book of John

Now the pot of coffee's almost gone

As we turn another page

Climbin' on him like a jungle gym

Watchin' his hair turn grey

All the Polaroids are just reminders

You can't hold life in a three-ring binder

But we flipped on through 'em anyway

There's a picture of his sister

Taken mid-July

On the steps of the church

Pullin' at his tie

Hair still wet from gettin' baptized

A brand new blue suit on

An old set of keys to his Chevrolet

A crumpled up receipt for a wedding ring

We watched ourselves grow up there in his arms

In the Book of John

That sun came up

Were were wide awake

Head to toe in black and grey

A long, black Lincoln waitin' down the drive

He was father, son, husband and friend

I still flip through it every now and then

When I need just a few words of advice

It's almost like he's not really gone

And I know one day I'll be passin' on

The Book of John