Fleet Foxes / Meadowlarks
The meadowlark singing to you each and every day. The arc light on the hillside and the market in the hay.
I speak of love that comes to mind:
The moon is faithful, although blind;
She moves in thought she cannot speak.
Perfect care has made her bleak.
I never dreamed the sea so deep,
The earth so dark; so long my sleep,
I have become another child.
I wake to see the world go wild.