Nebraska ©2004 Richard March She ran racing, chasing, thinking sure, they’d cast her in a big star way. Been the brightest light by far in all of Harlan County, folks would say. Coming home, she wore the crown, a Queen of Dreams, to soon discover pain. With a ticket to a town that brings you down, and leaves you looking for your name. Nebraska, can you still hear laughter, from church hall rafters, Saturdays? Nebraska, everybody here moves faster. They don’t take the time ‘til after It’s passed away. Grandma’s favorite painting hung at child’s height inside the entryway. Rolling fields reminded her of Richardson, and where they used to play. That picture held a magic; you look hard long enough, inside you’d fall. The air’d get thick and heavy, skin slick from a coming summer squall. Nebraska, can you still hear laughter, from church hall rafters, Saturdays? Nebraska, everybody here moves faster. They don’t take the time ‘til after It’s passed away. I ran running, gunning, searching for a root of proof, a' who I am. Something had to give, If I was gonna learn to live, and be a man. California’s fine for Tahoe pines, foothill wines, and bridges gold. But nothing here feels old enough; history hides when faces come and go. Nebraska, can you still hear laughter, from church hall rafters, Saturdays? Nebraska, everybody here moves faster. They don’t take the time ‘til after, It’s passed away. Nebraska, I only left you ‘cause I had to. Now I’m wishing I was back there. Spacious skies, great and wide, let my mind run free across your plains.