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THE RED FIELD (reworking of Sinthesi, original instrumental track by Silvio Vinci)
The wheat stands still under a wounded sky, rows without a farmer, birds that forgot to fly.
A red sun hangs like an eye above the land, watching every shadow crawl across the sand.
In the red field nothing ever grows old, the earth keeps dreaming while the world turns cold. In the red field at the edge of the night, we sow our names in the dying light.
Black wires hum beyond the distant trees, empty houses breathing with the evening breeze.
Someone left a coat hanging on a wooden chair. Someone closed the gate. No one is there.
The wheat bends low, though there is no wind. The horizon burns where tomorrow should begin.
In the red field under crimson skies, the last green thing is learning how to die.
And somewhere underground a seed still waits for a colour we have never seen.
