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It was on an Indiana farm in the middle of the country Growin' in the fields of grain, Jim Dean of Indiana His mother died when he was a boy, his father was a stranger Marcus Winslow took him in, nobody seemed to want him The hired man sang like a storm(?), sometimes he'd beat him 'Cause he would never do the chores, he was lost in dreaming He never seemed to find a play with the flatlands and the farmers So he had to leave one day, he said to be an actor Once he'd come back to the farm with starlets from the stages They locked themselves inside his room, the people turned their faces A neighbor ran from the movie house, chickens they were scattered He swore he saw upon the screen, Jim Dean of Indiana He played a boy without a home, torn with no tomorrow Reaching out to touch someone, a stranger in the shadow The Winslows left for the movie town, they drove across the country They hoped that he would stay around and they hoped he would be friendly He talked to them for half an hour but he was busy racing He left for the Grapevine Road, they left for Indiana Then Marcus heard on the radio that a movie star was dying He turned the tuner way down low, so Ortense could go on sleeping It was not until they reached the farm where the hired man was waiting The wind rushed silent through the grain, it was just as they had told him They buried him just down the road, a mile from the farm house That is where I placed a flower for Jim Dean of Indiana. From Letras Mania