โหลดเพลง mp3 A Month Of Sundays - Don Henley

A Month Of Sundays - Don Henley
I used to work for harvester

I used to use my hands

I used to make the tractors
The combines that plowed
And harvested this great land
Now I see my handi work
On the block

Everywhere I turn

And I see the clouds
Cross the weathered faces
And I watch the harvest burn

I quit the plant in '57

Had some time for farmin' then

Banks back then was lendin' money

Banker was the farmer's friend
I've seen dog days and dusty days

Late spring snow and early fall sleet

Held the leather reins in my hands

Felt the soft ground under my feet
Between the hot
Dry weather and the taxes
And the cold war it's been
Hard to make ends meet

But I always put the clothes
On out backs

Always put the shoes on our feet

The grandson he comes home from college
He says we get the government
We deserve

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 suburbs

Look out across these empty fields
I sit here

In earshot of the bypass and all night
I listen to the rushin' of the wheels

The big boys they all got computers

Got incorporated too

Me I just know how to raise things

That was all I ever knew

Now it all comes down to numbers

Now I'm glad that I have quit

Folks these days just don't do nothin'

Simply for the love of it

Went into town of the fourth of July

Watched 'em parade past the union Jack
Watched 'em break out the brass and beat
On the drum

One step forward and two steps back
And I saw a sign on easy street
Said be prepared to stop

Pray for the independent little man

I don't see next year's crop

And I sit here

On the back porch in the twilight
And I hear the crickets hum

I sit and watch the lightning in the distance
But the showers never come

I sit here

Listen to the wind blow
I sit here

And rub my hands
I sit here

Listen to the clock strike
And I wonder when I'll see my
Companion again