working in these mills.
its a quiet life;
and merry grins.
a simple folk who spin their own wares,
in these hills.
harvest's near, there'll be a feast,
they're letting me make the opening toast.
i wipe my brow,
smile to the sky,
blue clouds smiling down on me.
mending teathers does agree with me.
daylight wanes and i count my tools,
sickle, spade, and hoe;
children dancing through the valley,
rolling in the hay.
tonight i dine with the village old,
breaking bread and
talk of crops and
the physics of the wind,
fueling our smiths;
wine whitles down.
heathy laughter falls upon my shoulders,
hearth warm enough for one more round before
for the next days sun.
night falls upon me in a den theyve come to call my own.
spent muscles calling for a sleep that just wont come.
when i close my eyes,
you still come strolling down the fields;
found my valley, coming home.
sparkling eyes and silky laughter,
same old cutting tounge,
cutting through my dreams.
and when i close my eyes,
you're still lying by my side;
talk of travel and of tastes.
cultures vast and outer space;
nothing's stopping you.
a thousand miles and countless hills
still not enough to hide behind.
days spent working hard and still you're the only one who calls my name.
one hundred twenty months have passed,
one hundred twenty moons
you've tossed your dreams upon;
they reach me here.
across time and across space,
you still come strolling down these fields,
children dance around you,
village parts before you;
lean yourself against these walls i made without you here.
comment on these mills ive worked without you here.
win the hearts of simple folk ive known and loved without you here.
life is bright inside your smile,
you are bright inside my dreams,
ive gone as far as i thought one could
and still youve made your way.