When I was a child, I spoke as a child
|
Now I'm a grown woman but my thoughts are still wild
|
I thought I'd seen London or maybe Paris
|
but I'm starin' at cornfields and they're starin' at me
|
|
But dreams are just things that keep in a jar
|
You bury your dreams or you wish on a star
|
for an ocean line ticket back to where you were born
|
Away from these hard times and the acres of corn
|
|
Every now and again I take a small drink
|
from the blackberry brandy hidden under the sink
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And I pull out that steam trunk and put on my gown
|
and I waltz through these cornfields 'til I fall to the ground
|
|
But dreams are just things that you keep in a trunk
|
'til the men are out workin' or you've gone a bit drunk
|
Then you unlock your dreams, but they're tattered and worn
|
So you stare out the window at the acres of corn
|
|
Dreams are just things that keep in a jar
|
You bury your dreams or you wish on a star
|
for an ocean line ticket back to where you were born
|
Away from these hard times and the acres of corn
|
|
When I was a child, I spoke as a child
|
Now I'm a grown woman but my thoughts are still wild
|
|
-----------------
|
Acres Of Corn
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| Iris Dement |
