The Dreaming Fields Songtext
von Trisha Yearwood

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 1943
And with his sweat and his tears, the rain, and the years
He grew life from a solemn 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 a rusted plow
Rain on a rusted plow

And these fields they dream of wheat in the summertime
Grandchildren running free
And the bails 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 a 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 a rusted plow
Rain on a rusted plow

Like the rain on a roof, on a porch by the kitchen
Where my grandmother sings, I can hear if I listen
Running down, running down to the end of the water low
This will be my harvest now

And 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

As if to say goodbye