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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