They're grazin' the field. Covered with tar. Can't get a price. To see my way clear. I'm sitting down. At the Sugarland Bar. It might as well bury. My body right here. Tractors and combines. Out in the cold. Sheds piled high. With the wheat we ain't sold. silos filled with. Last year's crops. If something don't break me. We'll gonna drop. Well my wife got another. Coming in july. She's just laid up in bed. All she does is cries cries cries. Tommy oh Tommy. I'm so alone. Tommy oh Tommy. Oh! Won't you stay home. Pa' don't say nothing. except when it rains. He sits by the window. Listening to the sound of passing trains. Roaring out of the night. Carrying an empty load. We got a whole lot of grain. That ain't got nowhere to go. Well if prices. Don't get no higher. I'll fill this dustbin with gasAnd set these fields on fire. Sit out on a ridge. Where the bluebirds fly. And watch the flame rise up. Against this sugarland sky.