Dreaming Fields

Oh, the sun rolls down, big as a miracle

And fades from the Midwest sky

And the corn and the trees wave in the breeze

As if to say goodbye

Oh, my grandfather stood right here

As a younger man in 1943

And with his sweat and his tears, the rain, and the years

He grew life from a solemn seed

Oh, I'm going down to the dreaming fields

But what will be my harvest now?

Where every tear that falls on a memory feels

Like rain on a rusted plow

Rain on a rusted plow

And these fields they dream of wheat in the summertime

Grandchildren running free

And the bails of hay at the end of the day

And the scarecrow that just scared me

Now the houses, they grow like weeds in a flower bed

This morning the silo fell

Seems the only way a man can live off a land

These days is to buy and sell

So I'm going down to the dreaming fields

But what will be my harvest now?

Where every tear that falls on a memory feels

Like rain on a rusted plow

Rain on a rusted plow

Like the rain on a roof, on a porch by the kitchen

Where my grandmother sings, I can hear if I listen

Running down, running down to the end of the water low

This will be my harvest now

And the sun rolls down, big as a miracle

And fades from the Midwest sky

And the corn and the trees wave in the breeze

As if to say goodbye

As if to say goodbye