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The 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 nineteen and forty three
And with the sweat and his tears, the rain and the years
He grew life from the soil and seed.
Oh I'm goin' down to the dreaming fields
But what will be my harvest now
Where every tear that falls on a memory
Feels like rain on the rusted plow
Rain on the rusted plow.
And these fields they dream of wheat in the summertime
Grandchildren running free
And the bales 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 the land these days
Is to buy and sell.
So I'm goin' down to the dreaming fields
But what will be my harvest now
Where every tear that falls on a memory
Feels like rain on the rusted plow
Rain on the rusted plow.
Like the rain on the roof on the porch by the kitchen
Where as my grandmother sings, I can hear if I listen
Running down, running down to the end of the world I loved
This will be my harvest now.
And the sun rolls down, big as a miracle
And fades in the Midwest sky
And the corn and the trees wave in the breeze
As if to say goodbye.
As if to say goodbye...
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As if to say goodbye...
As if to say goodbye.
And the corn and the trees wave in the breeze
And fades in the Midwest sky
And the sun rolls down, big as a miracle
This will be my harvest now.
Running down, running down to the end of the world I loved
Where as my grandmother sings, I can hear if I listen
Like the rain on the roof on the porch by the kitchen
Rain on the rusted plow.
Feels like rain on the rusted plow
Where every tear that falls on a memory
But what will be my harvest now
So I'm goin' down to the dreaming fields
Is to buy and sell.
Seems the only way a man can live off the land these days
This morning the silo fell
Now the houses they grow like weeds in a flower bed
And the scarecrow that just scared me.
And the bales of hay at the end of the day
Grandchildren running free
And these fields they dream of wheat in the summertime
Rain on the rusted plow.
Feels like rain on the rusted plow
Where every tear that falls on a memory
But what will be my harvest now
Oh I'm goin' down to the dreaming fields
He grew life from the soil and seed.
And with the sweat and his tears, the rain and the years
In nineteen and forty three
Oh, my grandfather stood right here as a younger man
As if to say goodbye
And the corn and the trees wave in the breeze
And fades from the Midwest Sky
Oh, the sun rolls down, big as a miracle
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