I cared not for the farmer in the tractor Whose harvest was another battle won To build a farm and a family
To hand one day to his son.
Nor the lady in the cottage
Passing the last of her days,
Who by others was despised for her frequent scorn For she was too set in her ways. On suns setting at the end of the day, The night we trust to us safe keep, And all in bed to slumber lay, And slip to blissful sleep.
And in slumbers start to dream Images disjointed, varied, pleasant... Causing us to make in sweats and screams, If such a dream wasn't.
I saw not the joys and the disappointments, Of those building the future or reflecting on the past, All i saw was a tractor and old woman As across the scene my eyes I cast. For those not looking will not see The truth before their eyes that's placed, For they don't look, and they don't care, As through their lives they've raced.