They Died with Their Boots On

Day follows night, drought follows rain
This we expect again and again
Start work at six and finish at dusk
Sand dries our skin and our hands ever rough

The seeds that we plant in the dirt that we till
Will feed the villagers if we've got will
The wind on our backs turns the horses around
We can't plough the fields in this arid baked ground

Take to the road when the moon is high
Finding our way with the stars in the sky
When will the sweat of our toil bring reward
We fight for enough let alone something more

We're humble and ancient, our hair has long gone
We remember our youth in the face of our sons
No time to take pleasure in sun on our face
We'll starve and be homeless if we lose this race



Credits
Writer(s): Gary Blatch, Rob Rix
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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