| I’m sending you some money
|
| I wish it could be more
|
| But it’s harder than I thought
|
| To find the work I came here for
|
| This place is just as pretty
|
| As I pictured it to be
|
| And a man in need of work’s
|
| An all too common sight to see
|
| Each morning as the trucks roll in
|
| A lucky few climb on
|
| And the rest of us are left to wonder
|
| Where the dream has gone
|
| Where the dream has gone
|
| They say the Sierras melt with the rain
|
| And race through the valley
|
| Like blood through the vein
|
| Turning the lowland
|
| From golden to green
|
| To harvest forever
|
| Our dreams of the San Joaquin
|
| Every day I struggle
|
| With the distance and the fear
|
| That I will not return or find
|
| A way to bring you here
|
| My emptiness grows deeper
|
| I feel my spirit fall
|
| As night comes like a blanket
|
| That brings no sleep at all
|
| I only hope that time will find
|
| A way to work things out
|
| And we will be together
|
| In the life we dream about
|
| The life we dream about
|
| Repeat Chorus and add line:
|
| We’ll harvest forever
|
| In dreams of the San Joaquin
|
| They say the Sierras melt with the rain
|
| And race through the valley
|
| Like blood through the vein
|
| Turning the lowland
|
| From golden to green
|
| To harvest forever
|
| Our dreams of the San Joaquin |