Our Singer

I’ve been waiting, anticipating
The sun comes up, the skies won’t sink my soul
I’ve dreamt of this but it never comes, but it never comes
The rising, the nature’s dry folk
I’ve been dreaming, traced out, but dreaming
The sun comes up, the blisters burn my soul
I’m dreaming of something now, of something now
Of the rising, the nature’s dry, and all the groovy ones