I sit upon a lonely golden plain
A wind to test the sane and empty canopy of blue, all that remain.
Abandoned homestead marks a mans failed gain,
Drifted sands upon fence lines bury long forgotten pain.
The torment of this gale, a bankrupt farmers bane.
Soil ripped from earth to blow away from his claim.
Banished from the land, driven out like Cane.
In all our lives we once have came,
To places so the same.
Our efforts dashed our hopes maimed.
To dream, to work and fail time again.
Endure we must, striving our character to tame,
Our spirits filled as fast as they are drained.
We rise again tomorrow, blood within our vein.
Plow our earth alone, Sew seeds and pray,
Through this tragedy or maddened game.
