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(c) 2005 W. A. Kostelec
Storyteller 1
Footsteps in the sand from where we haven’t been
Traces of the lives that whisper in the wind
Footsteps in the sand crisscrossed over the land
A song of work and life still whispering in the wind
Who built the buildings so high
Who built the buildings so high
Buildings that kiss the sky
Who built the buildings so high?
Who built the bridges so long
Who built the bridges so long
The names and the faces are gone
Who built the bridges so long?
Shadows on the wall Like translucent memories fall
Murmur of a voice that long since fell to still
Crisscrossing of the shadows as generations pass
The passage of the sun and the faded wall is all that lasts
Who made the houses of Love
Who made the houses of Love
It wasn’t the angels above
Tender warm houses of Love
Who turned the country to farms
Who turned the country to farms
Millions of acres of grain
Stretching across the Plains?
The wind still whistles by day and raises up the dust
The drizzling rain is cold and the iron turns to rust
The work shoes in the corner are stiff now that the labor is done
A trace of the smell of the work and their years out in the sun
Who picked the crops in the fields
Who picked the crops in the fields
How much did they get of the yield
Who picked the crops in the fields?
Who dug the coal from the ground
Who dug the coal from the ground
Buried in the dark without sound (Buried without a sound…)
Who dug the coal from the ground?
Footsteps in the sand from where we haven’t been
Traces of the lives that whisper in the wind
Footsteps in the sand crisscrossed over the land
A song of work and life still whispering in the wind
Who got up at the dawn
Who got up at the dawn
To struggle the whole day long
Left too tired to sing a song
