Here comes Elaine from the Cottonwood she sang a song like I'd never heard there in the shade, a whispering charade.
Under the stars by the silent field, I lay her down & lift the veil she opens wide, a tauntillating bride.
From the edge of the woods came A thousand eyes
There is no love in the field of the dragonflies
Me & Elaine on the Miller's path her image looks like a photograph from a magazine, the kind you'd love to cream.
The path leads on to a trickling brook where we tarry there until the timbers shook leaves in our hair, so naked, unaware.
From the edge of the woods came A thousand eyes
There is no love in the field of the dragonflies
With all of the grace of a fluttering briar
they nested there in our attire
we spun in fear, like an insect chandelier
A true hidden treasure of a song writer. This gent has been capturing songs in demo form on old tape recorders since the 80s. . . and he's still capturing his magic sounds in his secret basement. Damien Youth