I grew up flat broke and stinky like a bad joke, mamma left when I was just three,
We grew up believing in some kind of Jesus, not the one you'd read bout in books,
My daddy was a hard man just working on a hard land, trade nickels and dimes for his back,
My sisters all left and I tried not to be alone, but its so damn hard when you're sad,
Met a fine gal at sixteen with blonde hair and blue dreams, dripping from the lash on her eye,
She'd hug me so soft, she'd turn my mind off, and let my heart sing its song,
She'd sing along,
And we'd lay in each others arms
And dream of our prairie home
We'd wish on that western star
She'd weep for that prairie is gone
When I think of this country, my hearts songs, my money, my mind can't help but sigh
I'm twenty eights and still broke and feel like a big joke, every time I let myself cry
But the hope still lives on in the middle of some heart song when I think of that woman who cries
And I am dreaming of her arms
I am building our prairie home
I wish on our western star
And I weep for that woman is gone