ALBUM - Bury Your Heart In Wounded Me

Brand New Parts

Published by Dusty Records, BMI
Words: Michael O'Connor
Music: Sally Klein O'Connor

©Copyright 1993 Improbable People Ministries

My grandpa was a treasure we buried years ago
A man whose life and measure
Were the seeds he chose to sew
But now as passing summers
Slip the bonds of gravity
I feel the weight of everything
My grandpa was to me

Grandpa was a dreamer
And the stories he would weave
Were intertwined around the truth
Like moonbeams up his sleeve
His tall tales made you marvel
If he had no other gift
He’d sleep well because today
He gave your heart a lift

What do you do
I asked my gramps
When I was five
How do you earn enough
To keep your dreams alive
He manufactured brand new parts
At least that’s what he said
Installed inside defective hearts
Of folks whose hope was dead

Brand new parts for worn out hearts
For hearts aren’t so easy to mend
Brand new parts for broken down hearts
So hearts can be whole once again

So proud he was a doctor
With questions by the score
I grilled him all that day in ways
I never had before
How does hope die Grandpa
And how do you make a part
That’s small and light but strong enough
To fix somebody’s heart

You ask some real good questions, Girl
But where you want to start
Is how do you get someone to admit
They need my brand new part
You reach out nice and gentle
Like your hand out to a fawn
‘Cause when you try and help too quick
You spook ‘em and they’re gone

Time went fast
Ten years passed
Finally so did he
When Grandpa’s heart gave out
We laid him ‘neath his favorite tree
It’s funny I told Grandma
They say Physician heal thyself
Instead he gave his brand new part
To everybody else

Your grandpa was no doctor
Though healin’s what he’s done
But Grandma said he had the parts
Inside him from day one
The old man he told tales
And sometimes couldn’t stop
So here’s the key it’s time you see
What’s really in his shop

In the center of the room
I saw a vintage printing press
With reams of paper everywhere
He sure left us a mess
Searching for some sign of how
He fixed defective hearts
I stumbled on a carton marked
Fragile: brand new parts

I dropped down on my knees
I was almost scared to breathe
And prepared myself for one of life’s great shocks
I took the lid off carefully
But all that I could see
Were a couple dozen new books in the box
So I opened to page one
And read these simple words:
In the beginning God created
The heavens and the earth

My grandpa was a treasure we buried years ago
A man whose life and measure
Were the seeds he chose to sew
Now every time I ink his press or use his bindery
I feel the weight of everything
My grandpa was to me

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