there's a bloodshot moon rising on the cornfield
since she went away
a rusty ax laying in the barnyard
it's seen better days
the banks are telling him he should sell
he's telling them to go straight to hell
everyone is heading for the city
giving up on the land
taking jobs with the big corporations
too tired to make a stand
the dusty roads are all empty now
the wind and weather have taken 'em all to task
the frontier is returning
forward into the past
from the silent frozen winter
to dark and endless night
where the plains stretch out forever in a sea of barren white
to the billion dollar merger
to bailouts in the east
where currencies are mangled and wall street has a feast
independence is our motive
out of favor
out of sync
abandoned and forgotten
discarded in the blink of an eye
his hometown's nearly empty now
schools and churches too
the trains have stopped for a hundred years
they just rumble through
the trucks stay out on the big highway
his whole way of life is fading fast
the tall grass is returning
forward into the past
forward into the past
forward into the past
forward into the past
forward into the past