Trouble In The Fields

Baby, I know that we got trouble in the fieldsAnd the bankers swarm like locusts out there, turning away our yieldsAnd the trains roll by our silo, silver in the rainLeave our pockets full of nothing but these dreams of the golden grainI can see the folks lined up downtown at the stationThey're all buying their tickets out and they're talking a Great DepressionOur parents had their hard times fifty years agoWhen they stood out in these empty fields, in dust as deep as snowAnd all this trouble in our fieldsIf this rain can fall these wounds can healThey'll never take our native soilAnd if we sell that new John Deere then we'll work these crops with sweat and tearsYou'll be the mule, i'll be the plowCome harvest time, we'll work it outThere's still a lot of love here in these troubled fieldsThere's a book up on the shelf about the dust bowl daysThere's a little bit of you and a little bit of me in the photos on every pageOur children live in the city and they rest upon our shouldersThey don't want the rain to fall or the weather to get colderAnd all this trouble in our fieldsIf this rain can fall these wounds can healThey'll never take our native soilAnd if we sell that new John Deere and then we'll work these crops with sweat and tearsYou'll be the mule, i'll be the plowCome harvest time we'll work it outThere's still a lot of love here in these troubled fieldsYou'll be the mule, i'll be the plowCome harvest time we'll work it outThere's still a lot of love here in these troubled fields