THe long rows of cotton turn to soybeans and corn
And what was once gravel is asphalt
Well I think our vices our bound to transform
with each starry-eyed generation
The tea is still sweet and the crickets still sing
But termites they threaten foundations
The river takes a piece of the bank each year
The thicket advances each spring
The chess set misses its queen
We city folk long for our roots in the fields
But it’s such a long drive to the country
I barely find time just to eat with my family
Seems that it’s just too soon monday
The bible’s now the self-help section
With prices we’re willing to pay
The meaning of my resurrection
Is the fact that I get up every day