Hikes Shepherd's Clock
We was runnin through the fields of burnin dandelions
Your mind is what i reside in
Tilling up the garden of the gods that I owe because it's planted in my mind that i'll reap what I sew
I know
They turned from golden suns
To cream cropped moons
Shepherd's clocks swaying to the call of a loon they swoon at the sight, close up with the rain
And we channel wind wishin for their coming days
I am a golden son
A cream cropped moon
A shepherds clock swaying to the call of a loon
I swoon at the sight, close up with the rain
And you channel wind wishing for my coming days
I watched the trees get dressed in their sunday best
Crying amber in the shade as they readied for rest
They say see me in October for the last of my breath
And I will see that you surpass another winters' attest
You are a golden sun setting fire to the lone
The places you have never been but still call home
You are the birds flying south, are the rivers, are the seams of the quilt that warms kin clean
