Five cans of paint in the empty fields
The dust reveals

The children cry, the work never ends
There's not a single friend

Who will hold her hand in the sunken lands?

The mud and tears melt the cotton balls
It's a heavy toll
Oh oh

His words are [bad word] and they sting like fire
Like the devil's choir
Oh oh

But who will hold her hand in the sunken lands?

The river rises and she sails away
But she could never stay
Oh oh

Now her work is done in the sunken lands
There's five empty cans