Lyrics Don Henley – A Month Of Sundays

I used to work for Harvester
I used to use my hands
I used to make the tractors and the combines that plowed and harvested this great land
Now I see my handiwork on the block everywhere I turn

I quit the plant in ’57
Had some time for farmin’ then
Banks back then was lending money
The banker was the farmer’s friend
And I’ve seen the dog days and dusty days
Late spring snow and early fall sleet;
I’ve held the leather reins in my hands and felt the soft ground under my feet
Between the hot, dry weather and the taxes, and the Cold War it’s been hard to make ends meet
But I always put the clothes on our backs,
But I always get the shoes on our feet

My grandson, he comes home from college
He says, «We get the government we deserve»
My son-in-law just shakes his head and says, «That little punk, he never had to serve»
And I sit here in the shadow of suburbia and look out across these empty fields
I sit here in earshot of the bypass and all night I listen to the rushin’ of the wheels

The big boys, they all got computers, got incorporated too
Me, I just know how to raise things
That was all I ever knew
Now, it all comes down to numbers
Now, I’m glad that I have quit
Folks these days just don’t do nothin’
Simply for the love of it

I went into town on the Fourth of July
Watched ’em parade past the Union Jack
Watched ’em break out the brass and beat on the drum