Here in this open field,
Where time is falling in,
There is nothing to hide.
Heaven and hell are pushed aside,
And I’m starting to find
That everything’s a lie.

Here in this open field,
Where the lonesome spirits gather,
Nothing here really seems to matter.

Reality and dreams are all the same.
There is no black or white,
All is gray.
There is no day or night,
It’s always dawn.
And this haunted hour goes on and on…
Here, in this open field,
Where I lay.

 
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