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Seryn
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Foreign Fields
Crossed over another state county line
There are more to pass
Than the ones we have left behind
Every city starts to look just like the same
Every street is only known by its little name
If I were hidden in the trees
Would you come looking there for me?
If all these mountains folded over
Would you come down digging deep?
Do you know just how far it feels now
When we are traveling these foreign fields?
My legs shake; bumpy lines on figure eights
My will breaks; one more just to think of you
If I were hidden in the trees
Would you come looking there for me?
If all these mountains folded over
Would you come down digging deep?
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