“Layin’ Low”
Absent without agenda,
no axe to grind,
no ulterior motive,
nothing to bear in mind.
Layin’ low in the high grass,
in the far away fields,
where tall sunflowers grow,
golden yellow row after row,
just layin’ low,
layin’,
layin’,
layin’ low.
No one’s fate to decide,
no judgements to pass,
out from ‘neath the heat,
of that magnifying glass.
Layin’ low among the weeds,
rolling ‘round the breeze,
where the wet winds blow,
plenty places I gotta go,
‘stead layin’ low,
layin’,
layin’,
layin’ low.
Sweetly sweating it out,
‘neath a sun soaked afternoon,
safe from prying passersby,
waiting on a love coming on soon.
Layin’ low while on the lam,
feeling forgotten freedoms,
from a very long time ago,
nowhere I’m not needed so,
‘stead layin’ low,
layin’,
layin’,
layin’ low.
Layin’,
layin’,
layin’ low.
BRC Ⓒ June 2021