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