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Well I can't sleep with all these hand-me-downs |
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Battered up chests and faded dreams |
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Every new life seems to spin away |
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Like sand escaping through the seams |
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Send me a letter from Omaha |
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Said a needle or thread could mend the tears |
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But tonight the cotton fields, they |
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Smell like calico |
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And the color of your hair |
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Stars stand against the lonely blue |
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They tried to sew you a pure white dress |
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Got tied up in the misdeeds and demands |
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Cotton burned all brown and wasted |
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Like an innocence fell to disrepair |
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But tonight the ashes, they |
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Smell like calico |
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And the color of your hair |
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If I could have my one and only wish |
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I'd sew your hair all to the lining of my shirt |
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I'd stand in the noon day clean and golden |
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Not the color of the dry land dirt |
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Send me a letter from Omaha |
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Said a needle or thread could mend the tears |
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But tonight the sugarcane, it |
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Smells like calico |
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And the color of your hair |
