Wrinkled hands

I was born long time ago down the country side Grass was green just like the hope you put on me Easly can rememder those wrinkled hands, Those wrinkled hands that use to work all day The story that I 'm sing I told you thousand times But Heaven seems to me like that country side The place where my granpa used to work the land In that place I 've got an angel by my side Lord I ask for myself nothin more than I have But please let me be those wrinkled hands Grandpa wisdom I hear again "Don't you blow on your burning flame And keep your feet on solid ground" Sorry for the things never told you, I'm sorry for the war I know they took your youth But I can' t forget the way you held your days, With iron hands nothin slips away. Lord I ask for myself nothin more than I have But please let me be those wrinkled hands Grandpa wisdom I hear again "Don't you blow on your burning flame And keep your feet on solid ground" I was born long time ago down the country side Cherry trees were blooming like an Eden park I was startin grab my life by tiny hands, Those tiny hands that never felt so strong.