Circling Through The Fields

Circling through the fields. Every word burnt through.
Circling through the fields. You begin to wonder what happens again. I fell for the albatross that's hanging round my neck. The noose is wrapped so as to hold me together. You don't know how but love's got a hold of your heart, taking your soul apart. Cuts like a knife and it's spoken like every cliché.
Circling through the fields. I am your every cliché. But you have to dig me out of this muddy field. These twisted arms will never leave. Do you want me to hang on your every word? In limbo, the Spartan lungs will breathe again. For you it might seem ridiculous, but then you'd never reasoned why.
Circling through the fields. Every word burnt through. If the world is a blaze of your sunken blast.....then we're all here to see you become the star. In private worlds we meet again. We aim for intimacy but fail miserably.
It's just another sense of time drifting by and in that we lose ourselves. Are we aiming for love or just another sense of conciousness. There's no feeling but in the same sentence you pump fresh blood into everything. Is this the end or the frightened footsteps of change? We'll never know unless we continue........