THE LOWLANDS

I come from the valley
That holds up the sky
The clouds in my head
The rain in my eyes

I come from the valley
Of gathering storms
We draw closer to heaven
With each passing storm

The wise, weary mountains
Hold up the sky
I stand alongside them
Lonely and tired

Down in the valley
A soul can get caught
On the old fire roads
The miles get lost

Down in the valley
We all walk alone
Our fates grow nearer
With each passing storm

We have learned not to fight it
That which comes from the sky
For God's spade is sorrow
And the ground, it is ripe

We are just like the weather
Tangled and wild
Down in the lowlands
We hold up the sky.