The eighth grade class of Lincoln..formed into a line
Climbed upon a bus..destination sleepy pines
It was visit a senior day..enthusiasm was naught
But they would struggle through..be polite like they’d been taught
They filed into the common room..introductions were made
The young full of life..to their elders on the fade
A young man asked an old one..how long have you been here
The answer left him humbled..fighting back the tears
He rolled his wheelchair to the window..placed his hand upon the
ledge
Smiled like a kid at Christmas..and this is what he said
I've been in here longer..than you have been alive
My children thought it best ..the same year I went blind
~~~*1st Chorus*~~~
But…I see them
My daughter and sons
The mind still remembers
Even when the eyes are done
They come to visit
Every now and then
It’s what I live for
To see them again
You look around…
See old women
And old men
I see them
~~*~~
They all poured back on their bus..headed to the school
Sharing their stories..it had turned out pretty cool
Asking the teacher..when can we return
There’s so much more..that we could learn
They’d met three great physicians..Heroes from the wars
A Russian ballerina..and two movie stars
When asked what his senior was..the kid said I don’t know
But he is a Father..then he let the story flow…..
~~~*2nd Chorus*~~~
He sees them
His Daughter and Sons
The mind still remembers
Even when the eyes are done
They come to visit
Every now and then
It’s what he lives for
To see them again
We looked around…
Saw old women
And old men
He saw them
~~*~~
The ride became so quiet..the boys tale was profound
Eyes drank in the sights..as the ears soaked up the sounds
Every kid went home..and told the story reverently
About a Father’s love so great..He is blind, but He can see
~~~*Chorus*~~~
He sees them
His Daughter and Sons
The mind still remembers
Even when the eyes are done
They come to visit
Every now and then
It’s what he lives for
To see them again
We look around…
See old women
And old men
He sees them
~~*~~
Ooooh...
He sees them
~~*~~
Climbed upon a bus..destination sleepy pines
It was visit a senior day..enthusiasm was naught
But they would struggle through..be polite like they’d been taught
They filed into the common room..introductions were made
The young full of life..to their elders on the fade
A young man asked an old one..how long have you been here
The answer left him humbled..fighting back the tears
He rolled his wheelchair to the window..placed his hand upon the
ledge
Smiled like a kid at Christmas..and this is what he said
I've been in here longer..than you have been alive
My children thought it best ..the same year I went blind
~~~*1st Chorus*~~~
But…I see them
My daughter and sons
The mind still remembers
Even when the eyes are done
They come to visit
Every now and then
It’s what I live for
To see them again
You look around…
See old women
And old men
I see them
~~*~~
They all poured back on their bus..headed to the school
Sharing their stories..it had turned out pretty cool
Asking the teacher..when can we return
There’s so much more..that we could learn
They’d met three great physicians..Heroes from the wars
A Russian ballerina..and two movie stars
When asked what his senior was..the kid said I don’t know
But he is a Father..then he let the story flow…..
~~~*2nd Chorus*~~~
He sees them
His Daughter and Sons
The mind still remembers
Even when the eyes are done
They come to visit
Every now and then
It’s what he lives for
To see them again
We looked around…
Saw old women
And old men
He saw them
~~*~~
The ride became so quiet..the boys tale was profound
Eyes drank in the sights..as the ears soaked up the sounds
Every kid went home..and told the story reverently
About a Father’s love so great..He is blind, but He can see
~~~*Chorus*~~~
He sees them
His Daughter and Sons
The mind still remembers
Even when the eyes are done
They come to visit
Every now and then
It’s what he lives for
To see them again
We look around…
See old women
And old men
He sees them
~~*~~
Ooooh...
He sees them
~~*~~
Teresa Lynn Johnson
Wrdspnr@aol.com
Copyright © 2012
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