See that little boy,
Scampering in and out of the rows of corn
Like he’s a jittering jackrabbit?
Yeah,
That boy.
The one with the red cape.

My wife, she likes the name Clark.
So naturally, when the little devil
Came to us, that’s what we called
Him. Our name’s Kent,
So if you’ve got half a brain
You’d realize he’s Clark Kent.

It’s ain’t easy being a farmer.
Or living out where we do.
Summers are
Scorching, and winters feel like
A Hell frozen over.
You’ve gotta keep a thick skin,
And develop instincts well enough
To tell you when something’s
Right or wrong.

My son, he wasn’t born here,
And sometimes the kids at school
Can tell. He’s plenty athletic (ought to make a good running back, someday)
But he curls up in a corner with a book
When his classmates won’t play
With him.

But see Clark?
Over there, he’s by the barn now. Fast ain’t he?
Smart too, sharp as a tack.
Now, he can be quite the fool
Sometimes, thinking he can do things
He can’t.
He’s stubborn. Gets it from me
To be honest.

He’s quiet, awfully humble,
And doesn’t seem to like winning all that much.
He tells me…you know what he tells me?
Says, “Pop, I don’t like being watched by all these people
Even if they are cheering for me. I don’t mind being fast, but
I sure don’t like seeing all those other kids
Looking at me like I punched them all in the face.”

My wife, she says he’s a conformist.
She likes big words like that.
A simple man like me, I say
He’s just shy, and shyness will
Go away, eventually. With time,
With confidence.

Boy, Clark does love that cape of his.
Just a cotton bed sheet that’s
Dyed red. My wife loves making things
For him. I guess it makes Clark seem
More of ours.

You know what else?
I never say this out loud, but I think
That Clark’s gonna leave this farm.
And that’s alright. I don’t mind.
This place is far too small for a boy
And his big dreams.
He’s destined for more,
I tell you, he’s destined
For greatness.