As the landscape unfolds

And the skyline fades agray

These ditches were dug by ghosts

We just roll by with lazy grace



Lines in fields tell that fall is coming late

Lines in hands - ambition or fate

Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers dead and buried

We have love for those whom the earth has married



She sprung from this soil

Lived of this air

And passed through this sand

So far from poor

So close to me

And so close to land

What goes around comes around

Comes down



Her beacon was barely burning

She saw the fire underground

We have so much to learn from nothing

From the silent, the humble, the sound



But there is one thing that keeps us poor

There is nothing here to die for