The Dreaming Fields Lyrics - The Dreaming Fields - Matraca Berg

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 the rusted plow, rain on the rusted plow 

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 the rusted plow, rain on the rusted plow 

Like the rain on the roof on the porch by the kitchen 

Where my grandmother sings, I can hear if I listen 

Running down, running down to the end of the world I loved 

This will be my harvest now 

And the sun rolls down, big as miracle 

And fades in the Midwest sky 

And the corn and the trees wave in the breeze 

As if to say goodbye, as if to say goodbye