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The Farmhouse
WM William Mowell (02/23/1985 / West Palm Beach, FL)

The Farmhouse

The hat that he wears
Hides the scars he will bear
When the dust hits the ground
You know the dinner bell will sound
The lone ranger might ride again
But his back is to the wind
For the farm that calls his home
May never see another seed sown

His life as a farmer's at risk
When his life can be held on a disk
The farmhouse still stands
But the dirt has left his hands
Big city drove him under
He couldn't survive the urban thunder
Now he lives in a big high rise
Not able to see the stars in the sky

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Comments (1)

Even though it rhyme It a frickin waste of time