Come blackest crow, start the wheat field blow   In a wind so high, it waves and glows   'Til you can't see the wood for the trees   I'm like anybody on their knees   Trying to find a way to make it fit   Picking up sticks      Let's swirl again, take us far away   To the church bell's chime in a far distant field   To a place where so lately so slow   And a time I feel like letting it go   Far away enough to catch our breath   I know where and everyone there   Looking to click, picking up sticks      Come crimson rays, paint us all the same   You know the magic is why and it's here again   Now you can't see the wood for the trees   Now like anybody on their knees   Far away enough to catch our breath   I know where and everyone there   Looking to click, picking up sticks      [Incomprehensible], it comes and goes   [Incomprehensible]   [Incomprehensible]   [Incomprehensible]