Six Trees in Nebraska

When you live in the City
on the east coast
All of the faces blend
and shadows linger against
dense oceans of windows
and you tend to
forget yourself

When you live in the Country
on the east coast
All of the mountains bend
and the pine trees reach out to you
Like Willows of childhood
and you tend to
lose yourself

But if you drive a thousand miles
Out to the midwest
Where there is a large vast open sky
Where The Moon dips his head
Upon the crest of fresh fallen snow
And black trees, all six of them
stand together in line
and you stand there
among them, like seven

you remember your life
and you look at your hands
and you cry like an child
because they're so cold
and life is so beautiful
and those six trees, so empty
They appear to reach out to you
and the Moon
You can't stay forever
No, you must leave, you tell them
and your voice echos over the fields
You'll try to remember
what January told you
in the year of two thousand and one

Six trees, become seven
as you drive past those fields
and hundreds soon join them
and thousands again

and They all know the language
and they all grow the same
but only six in Nebraska
remember your name