but my broken back
and cracked hands
have grown old
seeds of love
indifference
and i wonder when these crops will yield new life
maybe it's not my job to tend all the land
maybe i'm doin' the best i can
maybe it's up to you
maybe it's your job, too
earth's keepers
my sister's tears
washes away all my hopes and fears
soil erosion
a thunderous sky
fills my heart and i start to cry
maybe this is all out of our hands
maybe we're doin' the best we can
maybe it's not up to you
maybe love will see us through
drought uncovered
a white dove dies
tilling the land, and we soften unto night
new hope blossoms
from volunteers
seeds long forgotten
after all these years
maybe this is all a part of the plan
maybe we're doin' the best we can
maybe it's not up to you
maybe the love will see us through
maybe the light will shine through
maybe the love will see us through
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