Lyrics
Fields of My Forgotten
The groping hands of loneliness feel around my clothes
'til I imagine I experience the pain nobody knows
but when I throw my hands up in surrender or dispair
there is a girl with blood-red roses braided in her hair.
She stands alone in the fields of my forgotten.
She calls me home. She calls me home.
In the middle of a book by Solzhenitzyn written under house arrest
Comes a stark and burning realization that I've never done my best
But even when I turn my head pretending not to care
There is a girl whose velvet voice will find me anywhere.
The storm breaks momentarily and the air begins to warm.
And always unpredictable, the day is taking form.
When the window's open and the wandering is done
There is a girl with golden shoulders shining in the sun.
And when a brown-eyed woman offers me a second glance
There is a girl whose memory is teaching me to dance.
