BROCKZEMAN: MUSIC

Dear Father, Dear Father,
I hope that this letter finds you well
It's your son Johnny out in B.C
And the last couple months have been hell

The road is frozen over I haven't left the shack for days
Guess it don't matter all that much now, cause my old truck won't run anyways
Sarah hiked it outta here I didn't say a word I just watched her pack
It's just me and all the dogs now, Dad, I don't think she's ever coming back

Nothing happening at the sawmill gotta wait out the snow before we get back to work
In a few weeks he says we'll be hauling logs again that is, if we all don't starve first
For I'm getting mighty tired of eating nothing, the dogs look at me but there ain't a thing I can do
If it weren't for all your letters I don't think I'd make it to see this winter through