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Trisha Yearwood Heaven Heartache and the Power of Love Dreaming Fields 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 goin' 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 goin' 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 as 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 a 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 |
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