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Come blackest crow, start the wheat field blow |
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In a wind so high, it waves and glows |
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'Til you can't see the wood for the trees |
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I'm like anybody on their knees |
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Trying to find a way to make it fit |
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Picking up sticks |
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Let's swirl again, take us far away |
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To the church bell's chime in a far distant field |
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To a place where so lately so slow |
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And a time I feel like letting it go |
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Far away enough to catch our breath |
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I know where and everyone there |
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Looking to click, picking up sticks |
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Come crimson rays, paint us all the same |
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You know the magic is why and it's here again |
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Now you can't see the wood for the trees |
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Now like anybody on their knees |
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Far away enough to catch our breath |
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I know where and everyone there |
|
Looking to click, picking up sticks |
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[Incomprehensible], it comes and goes |
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[Incomprehensible] |
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[Incomprehensible] |
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[Incomprehensible] |
