Free

A cathartic epiphany.  The details are not autobiographical, but . . . 
© 2001 Steven E. Cutts recorded February 28, 2004 at Bias Studios (recorded and mixed by Jim Robeson) on my ONE/THIRD album
 
<ul>
<li>Steve, acoustic guitar, vocal</li>
<li>Rod McCloy, piano</li>
<li>Jim Robeson, bass</li>
</ul>

Lyrics

When I was six, I’d stand straight and tall
With my back against the yard-stick nailed to our cellar door
And hope that this new pencil mark
Would soar above all the ones before.
And even though my mom would cheer how much I’d grown,
All that I could see
When I turned ‘round were all those inches still to reach.
Always falling short of where I dreamed I’d be.
 
Every fall  --  county fair  --  I would gather from mom’s garden
Apples, squash, and pears
Convinced that we’d be “Best in Show,"
The produce champs extraordinaire.
Our baskets would win prizes that were red and white;
All that I could see
Were coveted blue ribbons hung on others’ fruits.
Always falling short of where I dreamed I’d be.
 
I finally took that yardstick down
When we sold Mom’s house a year ago;
I scrubbed away those pencil marks
Climbing up and up
Toward an ever-shifting goal.
 
I think Jesus should have said,
“Bless’d are the satisfied; bless’d are the content.”
In tearing down that measure of my childhood’s dreams
I could finally see
I’ve always set my sights on being something more;
Never happy with where I was;
 Always falling short of where I dreamed I’d be.

The Prime Cutts

Lyrics