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Rodney DeCroo
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Black Earth, Green Fields
Black earth, green fields,
ever wonder what's real?
Grass blown down by summer winds,
it's all coming around again.
Blacktop highway, mile for mile,
and I haven't seen you in awhile.
It's a bird in the hand,
it's a bird in the sky,
you can play it close,
or you can let it fly,
but deep waters, they don't,
they don't run dry,
they don't run dry.
They sit and stare in prairie towns,
cause they're waiting for Jesus to come around,
but my heaven don't have a face,
give me mercy, show me grace.
Oh passing on, moving through,
and I, I've learned a thing or two.
It's a bird in the hand,
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it's a bird in the sky,
you can play it close,
or you can let it fly,
but deep waters, they don't,
they don't run dry,
they don't run dry.
It's strange in this dark place,
sometimes a voice, never a face,
someone coughs, say man this a joke,
this lack of light, my watch is broke.
You touched me once, I can't forget,
your silent wonder, your sweet consent.
It's a bird in the hand,
it's a bird in the sky,
you can play it close,
or you can let it fly,
but deep waters, they don't,
they don't run dry,
they don't run dry.
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