written 1999

Can there be green fields
Or is it just a memory
I miss the old green fields
And how they would hide me
To the right I peer
A sandman and the sword he wields
Three steps from my home, where I used to roam
I could see from the window green fields

Are there green fields anymore
That aren’t sliced though and through
A pillow for my head thats not
Drenched in black and red hue
My green stash grows smaller by the day
The river’s receding, the sun’s unwound
To never to be Abel, nor harvest again
And forsake every green field
Is the price of a renegade’s crown