In Our Planting Fields

by Surfnetter on April 18, 2010

Sailing frisbees o’er the meadow, acting playful in our planting fields.
Bearded children, angel ladies — singing love songs in our planting fields.

The days were so long as the time whistled by,
We thought the dream would last forever.
A new day would dawn on the face of the earth —
We’d walk hand in hand unafraid — like a dream;
Just a dream.

Chasing sunbeams to the treeetops, hear the wind blow through our planting fields.
Orange sunshine, purple raindrops — watch our minds blow in our growing years.

See the birds leave a trail ‘cross the cottony clouds,
Sirens wail in the distance — we’re unconcerned.
And the war raged on and our friends lay dying
In that stinking jungle far away —
So far away.

And time was a healer, leaving scars on our eyes —
Our hearts couldn’t tell us we were blind —
So blind.

Pregnant pauses, love that’s still born — hopeless causes in our harvest time.
To ivory towers on an island we drive for hours on the LIE — on the LIE —
On the LIE.

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