I used to love you, field of dreams, I used to watch you sleep,
And we would laugh, living that dream, and we would never weep.
Then came the time, childish dream, from me to wake and grow
For growth is cruel, creator of dreams, growth is built on woe.

I know since, a destructive urge, to burn our fields and wheat,
With other dreams on our soil, "remember how we were weak".
When heretic, with burning altars, I sing a new song,
This cannot remain pure and sacred, I will prove it wrong.

I do not love you anymore, creature of sleep, I do not dream,
Then memories, still sweet and raw, push away these swans.
Now I see, lingering smoke, a life made of seams,
When I fight for hopes numerous, magic and broken bonds.

This war is a battle, tight with passion, fraught with partition,
To do right, nourish my addiction, sacrilege will be a religion.

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