Out Seeing The Fields

Out Seeing The Fields

Out Seeing The Fields

By Dawud Wharnsby

Briskly, rising to the sky
Cold, clouds rushing past
Flying, hopes to never land
Light. Streatching out my hand

Out seeing the fields
What is a dream and
can you tell me what is real?
Everyone else is home in bed
and I'm out here lost in my own head
out seeing the fields

Freeze, crystal on the bridge
Trees. Frozen diamond leaves
Ice, stiffening the wheat
Wind, underneath my feet

Out seeing the fields
What is a dream and
can you tell me what is real?
Everyone else is home in bed
and I'm out here lost in my own head
out seeing the fields

I only feel close to you when I'm under open sky
I only feel guided when I'm free to question why
Only when I smell the earth upon my face
will I ever be free to fly from this place

Out seeing the fields
Leaving the place I thought was home before
Picking up my shoes and I'm flying out the door
Can't seem to walk to go back there anymore
So I'm out seeing the fields

Morning, wings against the ledge
Frost trees painted on the glass
Snow, covering the streets
Home, warm beneath my sheets

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