Letter from Omaha

Well I can't sleep with all these hand-me-downs

Battered up chests and faded dreams

Every new life seems to spin away

Like sand escaping through the seams

Send me a letter from Omaha

Said a needle or thread could mend the tears

But tonight the cotton fields, they

Smell like calico

And the color of your hair

Stars stand against the lonely blue

Like pin-pricks made by midnight hands

They tried to sew you a pure white dress

Got tied up in the misdeeds and demands

Cotton burned all brown and wasted

Like an innocence fell to disrepair

But tonight the ashes, they

Smell like calico

And the color of your hair

If I could have my one and only wish

I'd sew your hair all to the lining of my shirt

I'd stand in the noon day clean and golden

Not the color of the dry land dirt

Send me a letter from Omaha

Said a needle or thread could mend the tears

But tonight the sugarcane, it

Smells like calico

And the color of your hair