There's times that I could swear I've got the world by the short hair I wrote the book, and I could do no wrong Sometimes I rise up Fill my coffee cup Walk down and pick a beam out in the barn Whoa, each day has such a power They can go from picking stones to picking flowers And I guess I'll just keep living by the hour There's days I feel plumb dead Drag my feet and hang my head And I could not find my ego with both hands Then I turn myself around Look at what I've found More blessings than a man can hardly stand Whoa, each day has such a power They can go from picking stones to picking flowers And I guess I'll just keep living by the hour
