WIND FARM LYRIC
Sunrise crawls through the window Before both the babe and dog fall into bed Casting warm rose gold shadows Licking your face and my head Then the alarm groans Stirring at too-soon O'clock So to the windfarm to work I go To harvest from zephyr stalks It’s giving a different Don Quixote Embracing spinning towers on the hill Winking as windmills eyelash smokey Seeing there’s no such thing as a wind-spill Making power generate in the wind Possibility blowin' in each spin Sunset creeps home like I do— late After a long and windy day in the field The dog barks and I go in to kiss the babe As you lean on the entryway with your heel The next day, again, too-early We're up getting ready, hair full of sunlight Heads full of the joy of weekend winds With hands full of each others', flying kites It's giving windwings and kitepower Playing around and around like windmills Racing each other in breezy meadows Rather loving surrounding great turning pinwheels You ask, where's this possibly from? The answer is blowin' in each spin The answer, spin a sense IS blowing in the wind To twist windswept North, South, East, West Whichever way the wind scatters Spitting in thrown-caution tatters In Movements making winds of change In the air, in the giving, in current exchange A new day dawning on us all In the breeze gently caresses dreams In a community of care and renewables Cast in warm rose gold glowing electricity We're ringing the alarm The world is ringing already Gathering like winds and farms When the blowing's getting heavy It’s giving inverted Don Quixote Embracing tales of windmills on many hills Redistributing power in gales mostly Making delusions of another world real How many turns before we win? The answer is blowin' in each spin.
— Adam Powers
Notes & Erratta