You're the master of the field. In your gaze my days feel real. Sun rays, I need sunshine so I can come alive. You're the master of the field. In your gaze my days feel real. There is a field where I used to be. Oh, It was so lonely. Oh, it was so empty. So incomplete. This is the place where I used to lay my head, Dig in the dirt til my fingernails bled. By the side of the grave all the flowers were dead. Only grey days, there's nothing left. Broken trees cracked by the ground, cry, desolate. The field; a broken souls that got no rest Once upon a time this field was caressed, And the garden was blessed til the gardener left. You're the master of the field. In your gaze my days feel real. Sun rays, I need sunshine so I can come alive. The master of the field stands by and sees bare branches on the broken trees. He's listening so carefully to the wind howling through all of these hearts - empty - who feel his eyes, then they come alive as they realize, they're not alone, there is some unknown, seeds sown until their grown. No matter high we go we know that we were born outside in a field of twilight. The fallen, the stolen, who had no one. He held them in his heart until they blossomed. He knows them with the worn and beaten hearts, grow like fruits, survive in all seasons. Life is flowing rain, full of pain, there is blood in the veins, and it flows in the field, green vines. We live outside and return to the field at midnight to remember and cry. No matter high we go we know that we were born outside in a field of twilight.
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