An old wooden fencepost; weathered and gray Once stood with a purpose now just stands in the way Once tall and strong, so long ago, Now worn out and weakened as the years took its toll Some old wire fencing clings to its back Some rusty old staples keep it intact It tugs on the fencepost when the winds blow But the old wooden fencepost refuses to let go So they dance, dance in the wind Randomly, helplessly swinging swaying again They dance, dance in the wind The old wire fencing tugs on the old post and then They dance in the wind After all of those years with a purpose defined Their role has now changed with the passage of time Surviving the struggles, they have endured Now they serve as a refuge for the weary winged bird And they dance, dance in the wind Randomly, helplessly swinging; swaying again They dance, dance in the wind The old wire fencing tugs on the old post and then They dance in the wind