Acres

The faces carved in the countryside

Lay in wait for a certain bride

To reach her fingers through those acres

And praise the lord

For what she taught us

Well I paid for the debts you made

Pacing presence, restless grace

This tree winds roots

Around my backbone,

Thank heaven for the stories I've grown

Throw those garlands around my shoulder

Leave your burdens as my boulder

I’m no atlas, but I'm further

Give thanks to mother and father