The Sunken Lands - Rosanne Cash

Five cans of paint in the empty fields

The dust reveals

The children cry, the work never ends

There’s not a single friend

Who will hold her hand in the sunken lands?

The mud and tears melt the cotton balls

It’s a heavy toll

His words are cruel and they sting like fire

Like the devil’s choir

Oh oh But who will hold her hand in the sunken lands?

The river rises and she sails away

But she could never stay

Oh oh Now her work is done in the sunken lands

There’s five empty cans