Cross of Gold

D
That combine is a war machine, the widest yet I ever seen 
A Bm
said get big or get out, they’re weren’t lying
G D
plant to harvest, life is filled with making ends meet at the mill
D A
and gettin’ out is just the same as dyin’
D
trawling fields like a golden sea, fish for corn or subsidies
A Bm
Fed into the silos by the tracks
G D
keep it going day by day, that river cuts the land away
D A
the rain digs out the soil deep and black
A G D
As long as the levees hold it back
Bm G D
And my father, said you’ve got two hands that you’re dealt
Bm D A
One you give freely when a neighbor falls behind
Bm G
And the other your hold pressed like a secret to your chest
D Bm
So when the plant was out he never crossed the line
D A D
Though said what’s yours is yours and mine is mine

My great grandpa was a refugee when he came from the old country
The King’s police were barking at his heels
In the city or on the land, either way you’re living by your hands
Either way the rich man finds a way to steal                                
The cavalry corp’s killing floor, stolen in the Indian war
The arrowheads still come up with the plow
he built the cabin out of sod and a rugged cross to a murdered god
To bless the crop, the sweat from off his brow
But you get nothing without more blood anyhow
God was a carpenter, built mangers for the shepherds.
He was a shepherd, trying to lead his flock to fold
But now the Romans own the rails, and these prices are the nails
And they crucify us on a cross of gold
They crucify us on a cross of Gold

The quarter’s on the auction block, some man buys land he’ll never walk
Another farm is fallen through the cracks
Boom to boom and bust to bust, everyone does as they must
Anything you’re given can be taken back
You each grow more, the grain gets cheaper, costs get higher, debts get steeper
Each auction is a player quit the game 
The kids look through us and their sights are trained onto the city lights
Like a moth looks past the night into the flame
But this life’s already burned, so who’s to blame?
And the grass whispers the memories of a prairie
And the glass offers confessions from the rye
Waiting for the sun to set but it hasn’t got there yet
Watch it sinking in the corn fields like the price
The blood, God knows, has been the sacrifice