In the fields.
Of crimson and gold.
The winds rekindle our spirits.
Where the wildflowers grow.
Amber clouds departing.
As dusk turns to night.
The once tranquil fields.
Awaken and spring to life.
Fires will rise then recede.
The nights will burn scarlet red.
But in time, rain will fall.
And wash away the dread.
In the fields.
Where time stands still.
The rolling hills will guide you home.
Where the wildflowers grow.