24 Feet at a Time
Copyright © 2003 | Aaron Traffas (BMI)
D D I busted my knuckles on the side of my combine, Bm A D Massey Fergueson broken down again. I took it out on that bearing with a nine pound sledge Bm A D and the force of a south Kansas wind. G I can hear the straw popping and drying in the sun. D F#m It'll be ready to go before long. G When the dew lets up I'll climb right on up A in the cab where I belong. G A D I’m cutting wheat on the old home place A where the bushels keep on rollin’ in. G A D Another round on a red dirt farm, A I’m steering straight into the wind. Bm I'm going round and round utill the bin gets full, F#m back and forth with the engine whine, Bm terrace and corner—keep that line— G A D livin 24 feet at a time. I order up another thermos of coffee to keep my eyes from shutting down. Caffeine and nicotine: the only diet for me as the shadows grow long on the ground. The dirt red sun looks as tired as I, the Gyp Hills put it to sleep. I turn on my lights and throw in a chew and put the header back into the wheat. I put a hole in the block of my big red combine in the summer of 2003. As I walked to the truck I broke down and cried, that machine was like a brother to me. My friends said go green and buy a John Deere; I told them to go straight to hell. Come June the next year my 860 and me came pulling back in the field.