Lyrics

Tastee Freeze on a Tuesday night
Moths gathered round fluorescent lights
Nineteteen boys lined up outside
Waiting on an ice cream cone

We'd practice pitching just to pass the time
Turn Right on Easy then left on Divine
Play running bases in the summertime
And Wonder what time Daddy might be coming home

Fresh cut grass in right field, Mama in an orange lawn chair
Never knew why they'd always stick me way out there
Cleats scraping cross the parking lot
We'll get em next time, good game son
Just Do your best to catch whatever comes your way

I used to wonder why he never made my games
Guess I figured he was workin late again
Looking back now I know I wasn't to blame
Cuz I know first hand his that his demons weren't just sticks and stones

If he'd a been around more when I was a kid
Maybe I'd a learned how to chase a pitch
Instead of being scared to swing and miss
And wonder what time Daddy might be coming home

I wish I'd of known it was better to go down swinging
And I wish I woulda spent a little less time drinking
Instead I spent a lot of years overthinking
Pretty much everything
Just doin my best to catch whatever comes my way
Yes I'm doin my best to catch whatever comes my way
Yes I'm doin my best to catch whatever comes my way