How can there be trouble in this world?   With the color in these hills, the blue October sky,   this little road that winds along the river.   Dusty barns and tractors in the fields   And families sit in front yards, or stand outside the churches   Kids are throwing footballs and pulling carts of pumpkins   And the morning sun is sparkling on the water.      How can there be such trouble in this world?   Where the mountains roll so gently,   Deer graze on the hillsides, birds chat on the phone lines   The whole wide world's a prayer for Sunday morning   The geese inspect the stubble in the fields   And all along the roadside, families stop to wonder   At the new October morning   And a red tailed hawk is circling   And a father hugs his daughter   And an old man holds the car door for his wife to come and see   Then they turn and smile at me.   How can there be such trouble in this world?      I know of course I know that this is not the only picture   I don't of course I don't know what to do.      But the road keeps winding through the afternoon   And it doesn't know the sorrow or an inkling of the shadow   of the rage across the water, the hatred and the horror.   It just wanders through this valley with the river by its side   As the light fades from the sky   The beautiful light fades from the sky...