Again

Alone in a field, a field full of folks, Like a blindfolded black burnt out stump, Standing defiant to the ravages of life, He beats his defiant war drum, To begin a new life, with a black hat and a dance, He opens these ideas full of new, Avenues to life, on a road from this field, And he happily walks with the truth, That his arms can stay open, wide to the world, Touching those fingers in clouds, Strumming the love that’s shared by the breeze, Strumming those beautiful sounds, Of happy and free, in a balloon full of joy, Rising to explode up in the air, And scatter, for miles, all over the fields, Love and good every where.