Pasture - Postdata

I have a dream reoccurring of yellow pastures and soft winds blowing

Up in the sky a bird of prey hovering by me nowhere to play

And in the distance I see a body but I’m not sure just what it is

I walk across the yellow pasture ever so carefully a soft tiptoeing

As if the slightest breath would awake it or awake me before I make it before I

know it

And in those dreams where I get to see

What lies across the pasture from me

Sometimes a body, gnashing of teeth

Sometimes a hollow, a swarm of bees

Freshly dug grave, a deep-blue sea

Sometimes it’s you and you are sleeping

And in those dreams you are too dreaming

Of yellow pastures of worlds away

Of your love dreaming a world away

A warm wind blowing, a soft tiptoeing

Tiptoe away, tiptoe away, tiptoe away