Down in the Wild Rye
Down in the wild rye
Where the earth meets the sky
Is the place where I belong
Born to cannonball along
Escaping the orthodox echoes
In all the perpetual meadows
Chasing a retreating horizon
Impatient for wisdom to ripen
A shepherdess with no sheep to count
Seeking my own sermon on the mount
I’ve no map for where I’m trying to go
Yearning to become a second Thoreau
But I’m just another master of none
Clinging the trigger of my Quaker gun
Guess I’ll have to be someone new
And bid my creature comforts adieu
Once a doubting Thomas
Now a nascent apostle to this promise:
I will forge a path to the beyond
I will find my own pastoral pond
Where the earth meets the sky
Is the place where I belong
Born to cannonball along
Escaping the orthodox echoes
In all the perpetual meadows
Chasing a retreating horizon
Impatient for wisdom to ripen
A shepherdess with no sheep to count
Seeking my own sermon on the mount
I’ve no map for where I’m trying to go
Yearning to become a second Thoreau
But I’m just another master of none
Clinging the trigger of my Quaker gun
Guess I’ll have to be someone new
And bid my creature comforts adieu
Once a doubting Thomas
Now a nascent apostle to this promise:
I will forge a path to the beyond
I will find my own pastoral pond