The Field

Young boy, young son
The game has begun
Feel it the pressure is on

The outcome is dear
From the adults you hear
Run, run hustle and run
And if he falls
God help us all
The net is open and bare
But we're all just kids
Trying to belong
Out for a breath of fresh air
The field is uneven
The players disheartened
The ball goes right over our heads
Me, I'm in the background
Playing with the daisies
Dreaming of days spent in bed
Oh we're only kids
Walking it off
As we run run hustle and fall
Mary spends the whole ride home crying
Her hands are frozen through to the bone

Me, I'm in the backseat
Watching the world pass me
Playing with the dew and the dust
Oh we're only kids
Making a mess
As we run run hustle and fall
Oh... We fall.



Credits
Writer(s): Che Dorval, Devin Townsend
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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