Picking Up Sticks

Come blackest crow, start the wheat field blow

In a wind so high, it waves and glows

'Til you can't see the wood for the trees

I'm like anybody on their knees

Trying to find a way to make it fit

Picking up sticks

Let's swirl again, take us far away

To the church bell's chime in a far distant field

To a place where so lately so slow

And a time I feel like letting it go

Far away enough to catch our breath

I know where and everyone there

Looking to click, picking up sticks

Come crimson rays, paint us all the same

You know the magic is why and it's here again

Now you can't see the wood for the trees

Now like anybody on their knees

Far away enough to catch our breath

I know where and everyone there

Looking to click, picking up sticks