Early a Man

I'm grisled.
And chiseled from old wood,
and like an old stump in the ground,
I'm rooted in my ways.

I know that freedom ain't cheap,
and I got blood on my hands,
and memories I'd sure like to get rid of,
but whatta you know about it, ya punk.
You young punks who think everything
ought to be handed to you.
It was my trigger finger that gave you
the privilege to wear
your hair long and sleep till noon
and listen to that goddamn hippie music.
But you don't have a clue.
You just see me sitting in my booth at
Hardee's and drinking coffee with my
friends and you think I'm old and strange.

Well, I was young once, and I was early a man.
And I would've kicked that smirk
right the hell offa your face
if you'd treated me
with anything but the utmost respect.
That's how we did things back then.