The factory whistle don't blow no more
Just wind through empty window frames
Jimmy's boy works two counties over
Nobody left to carry our names

Sarah tends her mother's garden
Plants the same seeds every spring
Her husband's grave on the hillside
She don't wear her wedding ring

But we're still here, breathing slow
Like the cottonwoods that bend but never break
We're dust and bones and prairie stone
Taking what the Lord decides to take

The church bell rings on Sunday morning
Twelve voices where there once was fifty
Father Tom reads from Ecclesiastes
About time and seasons and mercy

At the diner, coffee's a dollar
Been that price for seven years
Betty fills the cups and smiles
Knows everybody's fears

But we're still here, breathing slow
Like the cottonwoods that bend but never break
We're dust and bones and prairie stone
Taking what the Lord decides to take

This land's been hard since the beginning
Harder now than most can bear
But there's grace in staying, grace in going
Grace in the empty air

And we're still here, breathing slow
Like the cottonwoods that bend but never break
We're dust and bones and prairie stone
Taking what the Lord decides to take

Taking what the Lord decides to take