THE FIELD

I go down to the field to feel
The immense presence of silence
The Field holds people with no mouths
It tells them what to do
The Field will grop until it chokes and
In the end you will be healed
   All I want to do is to drown in that Field
   I will kill the person who tells me how it feels
   I want to be the blade that sways in the wind
   Want to be deafened by the ever silent din
   Let me drown in your noise
I watch a flame in a bucket tell its somber tale
The dying of the grass to fed
a hunger that knows no bounds
The flame follows an unbidden fate
It leaves what it can
   [ CHORUS ]
     As I watch a father and son 
     I chance to hear their conversation
     The son so unworldly
     Demanded his answers hurriedly
     To all the questions of wheres and whys
     About the moon, the stars and skies
     The father with a cheshire grin, 
     scratched his chin and began to begin
     the explaination
I cower from the shelter 
Of painted pastel sky
Through a tiny sunset hole I caught
The impartial glimse of God
He was looking through a wood-knot hole
In the marble walls of Heaven
   [ CHORUS ]
# copyright Joe Johnston