As the landscape unfolds   And the skyline fades agray   These ditches were dug by ghosts   We just roll by with lazy grace      Lines in fields tell that fall is coming late   Lines in hands - ambition or fate   Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers dead and buried   We have love for those whom the earth has married      She sprung from this soil   Lived of this air   And passed through this sand   So far from poor   So close to me   And so close to land   What goes around comes around   Comes down      Her beacon was barely burning   She saw the fire underground   We have so much to learn from nothing   From the silent, the humble, the sound      But there is one thing that keeps us poor   There is nothing here to die for