Got a bottle in his hand
Locomotive won't you
Take me to the promised land
I've seen my days slip by
My summer's grown cold
I've lived through a century
I've seen my share of gold
So take this hand
Callused deep
Let the rhythm of the tracks
Rock me to sleep
The season's gone
When folks were free
To plant the fields of their lives
In honesty
I've seen generations grow
Then fall away
I've seen a farmer's legacy end
Cause the markets won't pay
So take this hand
Callused deep
Let the rhythm of the tracks
Rock me to sleep
He's talking to the trees
HIs hair is breeze tousled up
You're praying on your knees
There's a barn owl piercing
The evening with his cry
There's a hush over the fields
Of waving oats and rye
Your light flickers twice
Cold draft around the door
Loyal cat slouches away
To the corner of the floor
The logs have turned to ash
The embers circle red
The rapping at your door
Or is it in your head
The wind laughs through the bark
Wet leaves spit down
Tin cup clanks against the mill
Weathercock spins round
There's a presence in the weather
It raves, bites, and breathes
The screen door is latched
As the mesh bows and heaves