Don Henley - A Month Of Sundays Lyrics
I used to work for harvesterI used to use my handsI used to make the tractors and theCombines that plowed and harvested thisGreat landNow I see my handiwork on the blockEverywhere I turnAnd I see the clouds cross the weatheredFaces and I watch the harvest burnI quit the plant in 57Had some time for farmin thenBanks back then was lendin moneyThe banker was the farmers friendAnd Ive seen dog days and dusty days;Late spring snow and early fall sleet;Ive held the leather reins in my handsAnd Ive felt the soft ground under my feetBetween the hot, dry weather and the taxesAnd the cold war its been hard to makeEnds meetBut I always kept the clothes on out backs;I always put the shoes on our feetMy grandson, he comes home from collegeHe says, we get the government weDeserve.My son-in-law just shakes his head and says,That little punk, he never had to serve.And I sit here in the shadow of the suburbsAnd look out across these empty fieldsI sit here in earshot of the bypass and allNight I listen to the rushin of the wheelsThe big boys, they all got computers:Got incorporated, tooMe, I just know how to raise thingsThat was all I ever knewNow, it all comes down to numbersNow Im glad that I have quitFolks these days just dont do nothinSimply for the love of itI went into town of the fourth of julyWatched em parade past the union jackWatched em break out the brass and beatOn the drumOne step forward and two steps backAnd I saw a sign on easy street,Said be prepared to stop.Pray for the independent , little manI dont see next years cropAnd I sit here on the back porch in theTwilightAnd I hear the crickets humI sit and watch the lightning in the distanceBut the showers never comeI sit here and listen to the wind blowI sit here and rub my handsI it here and listen to the clock strike,And I wonder when Ill see myCompanion again
