A Month Of Sundays Lyrics by Don Henley

A Month Of Sundays Lyrics

    I used to work for harvester
    I used to use my hands
    I used to make the tractors and the
    Combines that plowed and harvested this
    Great land
    Now i see my handiwork on the block
    Everywhere i turn
    And i see the clouds cross the weathered
    Faces and i watch the harvest burn
    I quit the plant in '57
    Had some time for farmin' then
    Banks back then was lendin' money
    The banker was the farmer's friend
    And i've seen dog days and dusty days;
    Late spring snow and early fall sleet;
    I've held the leather reins in my hands
    And i've felt the soft ground under my feet
    Between the hot, dry weather and the taxes
    And the cold war it's been hard to make
    Ends meet
    But i always kept the clothes on out backs;
    I always put the shoes on our feet
    My grandson, he comes home from college
    He says, "we get the government we
    Deserve."
    My son-in-law just shakes his head and says,
    "that little punk, he never had to serve."
    And i sit here in the shadow of the suburbs
    And look out across these empty fields
    I sit here in earshot of the bypass and all
    Night i listen to the rushin' of the wheels
    The big boys, they all got computers:
    Got incorporated, too
    Me, i just know how to raise things
    That was all i ever knew
    Now, it all comes down to numbers
    Now i'm glad that i have quit
    Folks these days just don't do nothin'
    Simply for the love of it
    I went into town of the fourth of july
    Watched 'em parade past the union jack
    Watched 'em break out the brass and beat
    On the drum
    One step forward and two steps back
    And i saw a sign on easy street,
    Said "be prepared to stop."
    Pray for the independent , little man
    I don't see next year's crop
    And i sit here on the back porch in the
    Twilight
    And i hear the crickets hum
    I sit and watch the lightning in the distance
    But the showers never come
    I sit here and listen to the wind blow
    I sit here and rub my hands
    I it here and listen to the clock strike,
    And i wonder when i'll see my
    Companion again

SEARCH LYRICS