Feel
Are you sitting on the field of dreams.
The cattle’s running so vans are pulling.
Feel my eye the vision is inside of me.
Come on people stand firm it’s time again.
Fingers holding grace of land.
Pecking order finished so wait for your turn.
Wooden round thing washed again too many times.
Four little sticks what are they for, they going to blow away.
Close those eyes for god’s sake.
Copyright © Rajesh Sharma | Year Posted 2005
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