throw
throw I still smell those sugar beets River rounds Indian summer heat Oak Grove Used to roam September sunsets Riding home How the clouds would float Above that railroad As trains go by And old men go To pretend that they don’t Have aching knees And can barely throw Someday, I know… Don’t remind me One day I’ll throw And the arm will go Then it’s official I’ll never go pro But in moments like those It didn’t really matter Because I could still throw Tell you what kid There will be a lot of things You wish that you did And a lot of pitches You wish you had hit But when spring comes And the sun melts the snow Wake up each day And be happy to throw Until one day you’re grown And you can’t anymore.