the wheat field scares the hell outta me.
if i'm fated to be lost inside, i dun wan you to get lost with me.
you belong to the main road.

the breeze caresses the field in her breath, and the little creatures weaves a spell around the place.
the lost wanderers forget about the world outside.
they are wrapped in the honey-coloured field's embrace.
but this bliss cannot last.

it's juz a matter of when the storm clouds come.