In the field of my estranged wife's eye I see miles of corn wavering As the breeze lifts and sighs With resignation and complacency She stares blankly at the horizon There'll be no rain She dashes my hope once more Brittle sticks of desperate effort for survival The dreams and longings We wished we hadn't sowed And I know I'll never laugh again on a Sunday I know I'll never dance again The heaviness of the clouds reflects the condensation Inside of me, inside of me I see the blur of rain on distant hillside The clouds have passed us once more The pools of disillusionment are swelling The object of my desire I abhor She lies waiting never to b untited Withered life lies tattered like corn Bitter and torn Frustrated and forlorn