Lyrics by Robert George
Fields of Forever
Ghostly mist and gates of iron, silver wreath around the moon
Shovel leaning on a backhoe, match struck in a midnight gloom
There’s a bond among the shadows, even sunshine can’t sever
They surround that lonely digger, tending fields of forever
Men who laid like dust and litter, just below an overpass
Share with all a final shelter, made of short and pampered grass
Then there’s others who once sweated, over hammers and levers
While a tick-tock time clock marched them, into fields of forever
And November leaves are brittle, sad and brown
Hanging low like the ears of some old hound
Fallen ones are swept away by unseen brooms
Where tonight a breeze can find some breathing room
Yet a higher wind will carry, leaves of righteous endeavor
And they reach into the starlight, up from fields of forever
Now there’s smoke among the spirits, from the digger’s cigarette
As he kneels beside his shovel, for a man he never met
For success does not lay claim to, people wealthy or clever
But the faith of one who’s knelt down, over fields of forever
©2008 Robert George - Mark Kaufman