Well I can't sleep with all these hand-me-downs Battered up chests and faded dreams Every new life seems to spin away Like sand escaping through the seams Send me a letter from Omaha Said a needle or thread could mend the tears But tonight the cotton fields, they Smell like calico And the color of your hair
Stars stand against the lonely blue Like pin-pricks made by midnight hands They tried to sew you a pure white dress Got tied up in the misdeeds and demands
Cotton burned all brown and wasted Like an innocence fell to disrepair
But tonight the ashes, they Smell like calico And the color of your hair
If I could have my one and only wish I'd sew your hair all to the lining of my shirt I'd stand in the noon day clean and golden Not the color of the dry land dirt
Send me a letter from Omaha Said a needle or thread could mend the tears But tonight the sugarcane, it Smells like calico And the color of your hairTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
