Trouble in the Fields

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 lotta 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

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