Robert Wyatt - Masters Of The Field текст песни

Up above gathered on a field of clouds. Crowded a lot down in the lowlands, waiting for their time. Waiting and calling, calling out for rain. To leave the skies down in the lowlands, masters of the fields.

Wings wide set in the teeth of the wind. The old beasts feathered wild beasts. Masters of the fields.

Eagle dancers, wings wide that shape the wind. Carving the cluods into spirit, sufis of the air.

Dervish dancers summoning the sun. To tint the mist down in the lowlands, masters of the field.

WINGS WIDE SET IN THE TEETH OF THE WIND: The old beasts, feathered, wild beasts. Masters of the field.

(Bruno Coulais)