Fields of People
Wyatt Day, Jon Pierson
Wildflowers grow everywhere
Vibrations flow, things will have to change
Strange new ideas fill the air
Some people leave, others grieve
Some were bare but things will change
Old concepts go, new ones grow
Every moment, yes, the world begins again
And the wildflowers grow out of fields
Fields of people
There's no such thing as a weed
Seeds of hatred
Plant them and soon they will bleed
Strange blooming flowers fill the land
Their seeds will fall, calling men to understand
Some things must die, others end
Every moment, watch the world begin again
And the wild flowers grow out of love
Love of people
There's no such thing as a weed
Seeds of hatred
Plant them and soon they will bleed
Fields of people
There's no such thing as a weed