🔥 Prairie Ghosts – The song that captures a vanishing land l Eliot Rivers

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Experience "Prairie Ghosts", a haunting folk song that paints a vivid picture of loss, environmental collapse, and broken promises. Through poetic storytelling and powerful imagery, this song takes you on a journey through dry fields, forgotten towns, and voices lost in the wind.

If you love deep, cinematic songwriting, this is for you! Leave a comment and share your thoughts.
🎧 Listen now and feel the weight of the words!
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PRAIRIE GHOSTS

A day without birds, the wheat refused to grow,
The well ran dry, the wind forgot to blow.
Trains hauled fossils, not grain or bread,
The old farmer burned his last almanac instead.
Do you recall when the river sang, never cried?

Bye, bye, rootless prairie sky,
We planted lies where the corn wouldn’t rise.
And those vultures that circle with a hunger called “law,”
They don’t dance—they just tally the rodeo’s flaw.
It was the day the earth quit turning,
The day the earth quit turning.

The gasman arrived with cold maps and charts,
Said, “Progress is a god who ignores ancient hearts.”
Tractors hummed blues while tearing the soil,
Dust raised flags for a skyless royal.
Kids played hide-and-seek from the sun,
In plastic masks, singing songs undone…

Bye, bye, rootless prairie sky,
We planted lies where the corn wouldn’t rise.
And those vultures that circle with a hunger called “law,”
They don’t dance—they just tally the rodeo’s flaw.
It was the day the earth quit turning,
The day the earth quit turning.

In the highway bar where whiskey tastes like soot,
A drunk poet screamed, “The desert’s our last hymn!”
But no one listened, just the owner’s old hound,
Howling winter psalms into hollowed ground.

Now clouds are plastic, rain’s acid-blue,
Bison are holograms in a tribal museum’s view.
But Grandma keeps seeds in an opium jar,
Whispers, “One day, even hell will miss the crops afar.”
And the wind repeats, “Nothing grows where there’s no trust.”

Bye, bye, rootless prairie sky,
We planted lies where the corn wouldn’t rise.
And those vultures that circle with a hunger called “law,”
They don’t dance—they just tally the rodeo’s flaw.
It was the day the earth quit turning,
The day the earth quit turning…

Eliot Rivers