Red dirt on Shepherd’s Rest Bloom wind cutting through my shirt Rations in a crumpled tin Dry hands Slow ache Old shirt Cargo haulers tracing arcs Cool dots in a rust-stained sky We plant hope in plastic trays Count each sprout and wonder why ‘Cause growing anything out here is hard work Every seed feels like a prayer in the dirt Under Citizens for Prosperity We’re just trying to feed a dream Yeah Growing anything out here is hard work Still I clock in for the dawn and the dust At Shepherd’s Rest It’s sweat and trust Old pump wheezes Breathing steam Filter’s buzzing out of tune Shift lead shouting through the seam Of his helmet “Storm comes soon” Hydro lights blink amber red We’re patching leaks with faith and tape Share a joke about back on Terra Then we laugh at our own escape ‘Cause growing anything out here is hard work Every seed feels like a prayer in the dirt Under Citizens for Prosperity We’re just trying to feed a dream Yeah Growing anything out here is hard work Still I clock in for the dawn and the dust At Shepherd’s Rest It’s sweat and trust Some nights I picture leaving Jumping out toward someplace green Then I hear the heaters breathing Smell the soil Rough and mean This little outpost Rusted nameplate Flickering sign in the Pyro dark Holds my paycheck Holds my people Holds a field of borrowed stars ‘Cause growing anything out here is hard work Every seed feels like a prayer in the dirt Under Citizens for Prosperity We’re just trying to feed a dream Yeah Growing anything out here is hard work Still I clock in for the dawn and the dust At Shepherd’s Rest It’s sweat and trust Growing anything out here is hard work (But it’s ours, it’s ours)
