The blood red sun beat down and baked the red clay ground
Dust kicked up around his John Deere wheels
No trace of rain in sight, again he'll lose the fight
And have to watch his crops die in the fields

They stood there, both in tears, his wife of many years
Said, "John, you know I hate to lose our farm"
He looked into her eyes, then looked up at the skies
And told her as he held her in his arms

"In my next life, I want to be your hero
Somethin' better than I turned out to be
I've lived this life behind the plow and harrow
In my next life, I'll make you proud of me"

The muscles in his arms, just like his run-down farm
Soon withered up and slowly disappeared
One hard-workin' man, two hard-workin' hands
Were giving up after all these years

His aging eyes grew dim and the lady that worshipped him
Sat cryin' on a chair beside his bed
Her hands caressed his brow, she said, "it's alright now"
And as he slowly slipped away, he said

"In my next life, I want to be your hero
Somethin' better than I turned out to be
I've lived this life behind the plow and harrow
In my next life, I'll make you proud of me"
"In my next life, I want to be your hero
Somethin' better than I turned out to be
I've lived this life behind the plow and harrow
In my next life, I'll make you proud of me
In my next life, I'll make you proud of me"