Still waiting for the Lamb to arrive

A Foal of the Wind is running through the field

his pulse is beating, as it kept receiving, because it kept believing

It's sacred by it's needing

It's sacred by it's bleeding

A hand on a wound to feel the pain

A wonder is arriving to feel sane

Like a roaring thunder in the ear of a buttercup

Born in the heart, by tears rising up

over the field

over the troubled rover

and soon allover

Like a supernova

and everything suddenly seems like gold

It's manifold

And healing like a marigold

As it gets close and high,

Across the rye

which is alive

It's close to thrive

and circling to the above

Because of love

Don't you see you got a hold, little marigold

Like the old willow

While you believed and let go ?

The shepherd is waiting patiently for the lamb to arrive

He forgot to put the flowers out of his mind,

but he believes in the kind as he is not blind

They keep him warm they make him transform

They have golden thorns

Sheeps aren't wearing horns

But he wears wings like the angle he saw by his own eye in the field of rye

And he carries his trusting credulity of goodwill hidden in his pocket

It is kept within a locket

As the sky turns dark

and the sheep's begin to bark

And a disturbing thunder catches his ear

but he has no fear