Old Oak Table

The man looks down at the board cut from the tree that was cut long before Runs a finger along the grain takes it all in with an eye that was trained
To make the most of every piece and carve it into anything he needs
Chisel flash, wood chips fly, the man works through the night,
Wheat from the chaff, meat from the fat, everything extra falls away and then A new table stands in the morning light
Ch
I”m not looking back on what used to be Nothing left to be learned from yesterday All because what it was is over and
It’s all gone like dry oak up in flames
She and I years ago at a yard sale on the side of the road Bought that table for a song, took it home and it wasn’t long before we had started a family of our own
Across that old oak table, I watched our children grow
but over time, I watched her smile grow cold
When the kids were gone, so was she, and I was all alone
Ch
Br:
I know there's an untold story behind everything we can see Every form builds up and holds its own set of memories Dragged out back tonight, a little kerosene will do it good For years this table served my family,
Now it's good for nothing, but burning wood
What starts whole, breaks down, comes crashing to the ground Out of control, parts from the whole, become debris, no one needs Useful maybe to a more forgiving man than me.
Tables turn, trees are felled, families fade and go to hell What once was, now is not, people leave and wood it rots And all that's left of it now, is at my feet burning hot