My father was much older than the other Dads back then.
He’d learned much more and been to places where they’d never been.
And I was just a boy whose head was filled with notes and noise.
Through the din I listen now and strain to hear his voice…

Cause the child is the father and I watch my own son push
To break the bonds of childhood, and I wonder why the rush?
He’s sure that I’m irrelevant, and listening is a chore.
My father was intelligent; I’ve seen this show before.

He’s wrestling with his changes and the questions that they bring.
He’ll learn the answers later on, ‘cause that’s The Price For Spring.

All the lakes are frozen and the wind whips through our town.
The sun is non-existent, icy silence all around.
There’s a cold man with a shovel trying to keep his driveway clear.
I must be getting old man winter bites it more each year

My daughter reads another book about her favorite sport.
It’s time for bed already; these days are too damn short.
She looks outside her window through a partly frozen screen
And scans the white and icy lawns for just a glimpse of green.

The morning sky is cruel and dark with storm clouds gathering.
And my daughter misses baseball; you know she’s learning The Price For Spring.

It was just another birthday but I thought it would mean more.
We ate our cake and sang the song, but when I closed the door
I found myself regretting several things I’ve never done
And wanting things that mattered less when I was twenty-one.

The mileposts are the same ones now, but seen through older eyes
There’s more appreciation, no desire to be surprised.
The parties are for children, for whom everything is new.
From now on I’ll sit back and watch like my Daddy used to do.

He must have known I’d get it right; it’s that trial and error thing.
I’ll never know for certain though; I guess I’m paying The Price For Spring.

© 2006 JOEPIKETMUSIC ASCAP