TAXI.com

DustbowlsWe were poor Okies farmin' the flatlandchairs made of mesquite and cheap bambooturning hoglard into homemade shampooand mama'd say suff'ring's good for the souldirt stuck to the sweat on my hatbandmy back ached from hard country livin'but mama'd say pain won't matter in heavencos our bodies are nothing but dustbowlsbut I kissed ma goodbye when I turned twentypromised to send her somethin' ev'ry paydaytold her when I hit MontereyI'd be walkin' on beaches of goldbut weeks passed and I took work at Wendy'sthe fruits of my dreams soon went rottenno one liked Waylon or my way of talkin'I guess my roots ran deep in the Dustbowlyeah, dustbowlssome are dirt and fieldstonesome are flesh and boneeither way...time will take its tollso we should never be ashamedof our accents or our namescos one way or anotherwe're all just brothersborn in the same dustbowlsI cashed a tiny check and caught a busleft that sandy coastline in the dustI still hear the words of my old motherwe just trade one vessel for anothershe taught me home is life and now bless her soulshe sits on a bamboo shelf in a silver dustbowlyeah, dustbowlssome are dirt and fieldstonesome are flesh and boneeither way...life will take its tollso we should never be ashamedof our accents or our namescos one way or anotherwe're all just brothersbound for the same dustbowls(c)2005 Robert George