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SONG FOR A WINDMILL Album : Pipedream Alan Hull Standing in a field alone who was it who turned you in to stone? Who let your wooden cog wheels rot? Who'll not be coming back to make the wheat----, from the corn fields? The miller, he has another job He worketh in a factory, to earn his weekly bob There was a time before when your sails played hopscotch with the wind And your music was the soaring of fifty thousand revolutions on wings of nature's making But now your silent like your store Your body is all breaking and just the rats call you home Standing in a field alone who was it who turned you in to stone? Who let your wooden cog wheels rot? Who'll not be coming back to make the wheat----, from the corn fields? The miller, he has another job He worketh in a factory, to earn his weekly bob

    


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