And when a woman asks me now,
“Where have you gone to?”
I am careful not to confess
I am standing beside my mother
in a field of tall corn in late afternoon,
eyes lost in clear hot skies
And when a woman asks me now,
“Where have you gone to?”
I am careful not to confess
I am standing beside my mother
in a field of tall corn in late afternoon,
eyes lost in clear hot skies