"Youth and Young Manhood" (Followill, Followill, Angelo) - 37:53
And I thought of pine forests' wooden perfume
Whispering from twig to bark to stolid air.
Cars gush from city to city and ignore
A lost boy, treading through dead cast needles,
Staring upwards towards a worldly constellation;
Flecks of sun crack the thick canopy,
Light plays with dark, day struggles against dusk.
A rasp of wind plays a shrill rhythm,
Rattles nature's arrested orchestra.
Violent sounds wrestle bleak shadows,
Seizing this innocents gaze. Come, kind yeoman,
Bring your order to this impossible wilderness!
The boy squints to see a ramshackle barn
Where sits the farmer's feast - God's harvest
Of grain sullied by smut.
Sanjay