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