In the ears of rye i will find fragments of the sunIn the ears of rye I will find fragments of the sun
The ears of corn are weaving about the boundless fieldThe ears of corn are weaving about the boundless field
In the ears of rye i will find fragments of the sunIn the ears of rye I will find fragments of the sun
The ears of corn are weaving about the boundless fieldThe ears of corn are weaving about the boundless field