Live recording at my studio.
"Windmill"
Still spreading out your broken arms
Those arms that used to stretch so high
The windmill hugging into the breeze
Those arms so high in the sky
Clockwise circles Into friction they become
Subsistence to the people
Through those revolving stones
Tic tac tic tac
The miller´s gone, as the new dawn comes
The headway, the progress, and the process and the
Miller´s on the flock
His dreams were switched off
Such as windmill´s turns into a weathercock