Walking in the fields I can see
The trees moving, swaying.
What do they want of me,
And what are they saying?

That life is a mystery,
And beyond knowing,
Or that it's all a matter of history?
Just seeds that we are sowing.

Yes, I can hear whispers on the wind,
Things sensed but not seen.
Out of sight but not out of mind
Where have we gone, where have we been?