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 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 plough
Rain on a rusted plough
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 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 plough
Rain on a rusted plough
Like the rain on the roof on the porch by the kitchen
Where my grandmother sings, I can hear if I listen
This will be my harvest now
When 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