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Boy, I'd love to have that car, I whispered to my Dad.
I've always heard a Mustang flies.
We could fix it up and make it new again.
All it needs is just a little time.
Dad is hardly ever home since Momma passed away.
He's always working overtime.
I know that he cannot afford to buy that car,
Even though he'd love to make it mine.
It's not the car that I'm needing,
Just the chance to be with him.
I know that once these days roll past us,
They will never come again.
So little time and we spend way too much apart.
There would always be a part of us together in that car.
I finally let go of that dream and the time we could have shared.
It was a distant memory.
Until last fall a call came saying Dad was gone,
Could I come quick; he left a note for me.
Buried Dad right next to Mom up on Crowley's Ridge,
And there I said my last goodbye.
I opened up the note and found a set of keys.
"Here's your car, son, I hope it flies."
It's not the car that you're needing,
But just the chance to be with him.
I hope you understand I always did,
The best that I could do.
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