Folk Song

Summer sky and a throat bone dry

And all the fields are all gold

Dusty lane with a song in my brain

And it stoned me to my soul

I climb higher, move towards the fire

Blaze, sun

Silver trees and a whispering breeze

Are my sight and my sound

The thought of heaven couldn't drag me from the path

When I'm wandering here alone

I climb higher, move towards the fire

So, blaze, sun

Watch until it dies, slow-falling from the sky

Pale fading sun