Somewhere along the cornfields
I fidget over the running wheels;
The sun holding the hot shed
Over a hundred bobble heads.
Somewhere along the lonely lane
We’d broken off; we meet again.
You seem greener than the forest
That treats me like its only guest.
Somewhere along the crippled curves,
The damsels win, the knights serve;
Their victory smells of weeping grass,
The fate plays on, the evenings pass.
Somewhere along the way back home,
Our house of cards is made of foam.
It shivers, it stays, it breaks apart;
Even so, it’s stronger than my heart.
