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