The Man in the Field

[Verse] In the twilight's gentle glow, he tends to soil and seed, A lone man in his field, with a heart that's learned to bleed. He plants his dreams in furrows, as the sun begins to set, A melody of whispering winds, he'll not soon forget. [Verse 2] His hands are rough and calloused, from years of toil and care, Yet they move with grace and purpose, as they sow the earth so fair. His song is in the rustle, of the leaves and the breeze, A symphony of solitude, among the waving trees. [Chorus] Oh, the man in the field, with his jazz whip sounds, He dances with the shadows, where the wild heart pounds. His love is in the land, where melody resounds, A tune of sweet surrender, where the spirit bounds. [Verse 3] He hums an ancient rhythm, with each stroke of the plow, His notes are carried skyward, on the wings of a vow. To live a life of harmony, with the earth beneath his feet, A concert in the quiet, where the dusk and daylight meet. [Bridge] In his solitude he finds, the music deep and true, The cadence of the crickets, and the morning dew. Each day a composition, in the key of life—for real, For the man in the field, true jazz he'll always feel. [Chorus] Oh, the man in the field, with his jazz whip sounds, He dances with the shadows, where the wild heart pounds. His love is in the land, where melody resounds, A tune of sweet surrender, where the spirit bounds.