3) FOLK SONG summer sky and a throat bone dry and the fields are all gold dusty lane with a song in my brain and it stoned me to my soul I climb high move towards the fire blaze sun silver trees and whispering breeze are my sight and my sound the thought of heaven couldn't drag me from the path when I'm wandering here alone I climb higher move towards the fire so blaze sun watch until it dies slow falling from the sky pale fading sun