Birthday parties and Christmas daysnthanksgivings through the yearsnrefrigerators and grocery storesnand a migrant worker's tearsnshopping carts and frayed couponsnseems every day's a blurnwould it all taste the samenif you knew who they werennit's autumn's harvest the end of the linenno more turning water into winenhope it withers on the vinenit's autumn's harvest the end of the linenit's autumn's harvest the end of the linennThere's pastures of plenty herena great little man once saidnenough to ensure dignitynwith every bite of breadnso why do we close our eyesnto the things we cannot seenand let others live like dry leavesnin the land of the freennit's autumn's harvest the end of the linenno more turning water into winenhope it withers on the vinenit's autumn's harvest the end of the linenit's autumn's harvest the end of the linennBless us oh Lord and these thy giftsnwhich we are about to receivenhelp us remember that it all got herenfrom a man down on his kneesnif we had an extra chair nwould we set a placenfor those who pick our foodnto lead us in gracennSome men give some take awaynand others stand asidenand watch it all with a wearinessnthat allows others to decidenthat the food we eat is drenched with sweatnsome may surely justifynbut when blood is mixed in with the toilnit's time to ask whynnit's autumn's harvest the end of the linenno more turning water into winenhope it withers on the vinenit's autumn's harvest the end of the linennBless us oh Lord and these thy giftsnwhich we are about to receivenhelp us remember that it all got herenfrom a man down on his kneesnif we had an extra chairnwould we set a placento allow those who pick our foodnto lead us in gracennit's autumn's harvest the end of the linenno more turning water into winenhope it withers on the vinenit's autumn's harvest the end of the linenit's autumn's harvest the end of the line