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  • Old melody that I tried to learn
    When I gave myself over to it
    Learned every step and my efforts were met
    When it rain and it told and it sang
    Panel on strings, familiar rings
    If the line is a chain past today
    Then each fielder I played is another that stayed
    To turn himself into the link
    And he’s still up here somewhere I think
    And I hear the old voices singing
    This song will never land
    It was here long ago and continues to grow
    In the fields of progeny
    In the fields of progeny
    Where is the culture you ask? I don’t know
    And when is the future you ask? I don’t know
    Is it locked in the ice?
    Is it under the frost?
    I can hardly hear the heart beating
    But it’s under the snow I suppose
    And where is the history?
    And where is the memory?
    Where is the language that I used to know?
    Is it locked in the ice?
    Is it under the frost?
    I can hardly hear the heart beating
    But it’s under the snow I suppose
    And I hear the old voices singing
    This song will never land
    It was here long ago and continues to grow
    In the fields of progeny
    In the fields of progeny
  • Old melody that I tried to learn
    When I gave myself over to it
    Learned every step and my efforts were met
    When it rain and it told and it sang
    Panel on strings, familiar rings
    If the line is a chain past today
    Then each fielder I played is another that stayed
    To turn himself into the link
    And he’s still up here somewhere I think
    And I hear the old voices singing
    This song will never land
    It was here long ago and continues to grow
    In the fields of progeny
    In the fields of progeny
    Where is the culture you ask? I don’t know
    And when is the future you ask? I don’t know
    Is it locked in the ice?
    Is it under the frost?
    I can hardly hear the heart beating
    But it’s under the snow I suppose
    And where is the history?
    And where is the memory?
    Where is the language that I used to know?
    Is it locked in the ice?
    Is it under the frost?
    I can hardly hear the heart beating
    But it’s under the snow I suppose
    And I hear the old voices singing
    This song will never land
    It was here long ago and continues to grow
    In the fields of progeny
    In the fields of progeny