When i feel the wind blow across the lonely empty plain,
A chilling tickle tingle on my cheeks ,
Across the great plain a vast wasteland ,
Yet sometimes it rains ,
And when it does the fields turn green ,
There is a subtlely  pleasant smell ,
It makes me think of gentle nights alone apon the plain,
In the grass i lay the night for mornings sweet revival ,
And in that time i breathe no more back to natures green embrace,
And with the wind i blow now through your hair and off your cheek.