Furrowed Hymn

[Verse 1]
The Fuyu persimmons blush on every branch.
Come November, it’s our last, best chance.
You tie your hair back with a piece of twine
And turn this whole damn valley to a shrine.

[Chorus]
Oh, Mary-Anne, you're my furrowed hymn,
My only faith from the field's dusty rim.
Don't need no steeple, just the sound of your name,
A whisper to the water, a prayer in the grain.

[Verse 2]
The canal ditch reflects a sliver of blue sky,
Same dark water I remember floatin' by.
Smell of diesel hangs on the afternoon heat.
Last week you said, "It's been a brutal year, Pete."

[Chorus]
Oh, Mary-Anne, you're my furrowed hymn,
My only faith from the field's dusty rim.
Don't need no steeple, just the sound of your name,
A whisper to the water, a prayer in the grain.

[Bridge]
(Percussion and vocal only)
Ba says a good crop needs a patient hand,
A stubborn root down in some thirsty land.
I'm just a hired boy with dirt on my face,
But I see heaven in this broken place.

[Chorus]
Oh, Mary-Anne, you're my furrowed hymn,
My only faith from the field's dusty rim.
Don't need no steeple, just the sound of your name,
A whisper to the water, a prayer in the grain.

[Outro]
Yeah, a whisper to the water...
My furrowed hymn.