Climbing up she floats now towards
Yellow barley fields swaying in harmony...

Her hair blows softly like the wind
Against my skin so welcoming...

Nature awaking
to the pitter pattering...

A
Chorus...

Quill quivers and quakes
Above the naked parchment...

.
creation...

Shooting
Stars burn their tears...

The power of nature,
Harmony is sought...

Drop of life...
~~~Within a~~~ . . . . . . . . . . . .p...

.
Trouble was in the fusty air...

My wish
Squirmy plate of...

Alone.. I look up with wide, suspicious eyes...
I can hear them; their stench, a palpable puss...