There once was a little girl playing on a swingset
When her grandpa built by the sycamore tree near the rusty farmyard gate.
And while her mama pinned the laundry,
the little girl would cry out loud,
“Push me higher, push me higher, push me I can’t wait.”
Her mama would push a couple times but there was laundry still to do,
So she learned to use her own strength, pull her own weight, push on through.
To swing higher, higher than before.
Higher, but scared to reach for something more.
Higher, higher towards the sky.
Until the day she bent to kiss her mama a last goodbye.
There once was a little boy who rode that swing set.
He had a licorice twist from the store in town and two knobby skinned-up knees.
And while his sister pin the laundry, the little boy would cry out loud,
“Push me higher, push me higher, push me, pretty please.”
The girl would push a couple times but there was laundry still to do,
Then she watched, amazed, as that little boy simply pulled his own weight through.
To swing higher, higher than she dared.
Higher, he swings so high but wasn’t scared.
Higher, he could touch the sky.
Right then she knew that he would also one day tell her goodbye.
That little boy, he seemed so sure, was it something never taught to her?
How the years passed quickly by that girl’s a woman still afraid to try.
Is it too late to start again, get back that feeling I had then?
But now my life is upside down,
There’s no more farm, there’s no more town, and no use asking why.
But I won’t let it pass me by.
Life won’t pass me by.
Get back on that swing,
Higher, soaring higher up than anything.
Higher, I want something more.
I dreamed I’d reach for greater things,
My eyes upon those golden rings,
I’ll take what chance the future brings,