I was taken apart, a barn built by heart, and hand of a man I'd not known.
Though his youth was displayed in this barn Dad had made, it was built long before I was born.
As my crowbar persisted against nails that resisted, I loosened the cottonwood beams.
Truth came and I cried, I could not, if I tried, dismantle that younger man's dream.
Dreams, heart of living. Dreams, what you feel. Dreams are forgiving. Dreams are for real.
Through the sweat and the dust, I knew that I must not let this vision slip past.
Of one on the run and under the gun, the other getting ready to rest.
How strange it did seem to poke through the dream to discover the man and his cause.
Every nail tells a tale, each board bears a word from the soul of whose dream this barn was.
Dreams, heart of living. Dreams, what you feel. Dreams are forgiving. Dreams are for real.
Now I look through the rain at the man who remains and wonder what memory he knows.
Of a time and a place when a dream grew from grace, came to life as this old barn here shows.
I did not tear it down, I just changed it around, though I don't really think it much mattered.
For once they are found in a heart warm and sound, dreams aren't easily shattered.
Dreams, heart of living. Dreams, what you feel. Dreams are forgiving. Dreams are for real.
Dreams, dreams, dreams are for real.