Thursday, March 03, 2005

Lyrics to my life

Random lyrics stuck in my head before I knew my grandma had died:

Took my baby to the doctor
with a fever but nothing he found
by the time it hit the streets,
they said she'd had a breakdown
someone's always tryin' to start my baby cryin'
talkin', squealin', lyin, now baby's slowly dyin'


Random lyrics stuck in my head after I found out grandma had died:

He lives! He lives! Christ Jesus lives today
He walks with me and talks with me along life's narrow way
He lives! He lives! Salvation to impart
You ask me how I know he lives?
He lives within my heart.


This song is in my head today:

Baby I know that we've got trouble in the fields
When the bankers swarm like locust out there turning away our yield
The trains roll by our silos, silver in the rain
They leave our pockets full of nothing
But our dreams and the golden grain

Have you seen the folks in line downtown at the station
They're all buying their ticket out and talking the great depression
Our parents had their hard times fifty years ago
When they stood out in these empty fields in dust as deep as snow

And all this trouble in our fields
If this rain can fall, these wounds can heal
They'll never take our native soil
But if we sell that new John Deere
And then we'll work these crops with sweat and tears
You'll be the mule I'll be the plow
Come harvest time we'll work it out
There's still a lot of love, here in these troubled fields

There's a book up on the shelf about the dust bowl days
And there's a little bit of you and a little bit of me
In the photos on every page
Now our children live in the city and they rest upon our shoulders
They never want the rain to fall or the weather to get colder

And all this trouble in our fields
If this rain can fall, these wounds can heal
They'll never take our native soil
But if we sell that new John Deere
And then we'll work these crops with sweat and tears
You'll be the mule I'll be the plow
Come harvest time we'll work it out
There's still a lot of love, here in these troubled fields

You'll be the mule I'll be the plow
Come harvest time we'll work it out
There's still a lot of love, here in these troubled fields

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