One one thousand, two one thousand
Boom
A storm is getting close
It's one of my first memories from Parrish Lane
Counting how far out a storm was with Pop-pop
We sat on nylon lawn chairs near the garage door
He called me his Little Swede
He called my Dad "Mo"
I don't know why
His name is Dave
"Hey Mo", grab me a beer
There was a peanut can full of change on the shelf above the vice grip
He would let me take a whole handful
I mostly got pennies
I dream about the garage a lot
I can sense that he is there somewhere in the dream
but I've never see him
Flash
One one thousand, two one thousand
Boom
I always think of him when a storm is coming
Flash
Boom
The storm is here
Happy Birthday Pop-pop
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