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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