Jerry Baccardi - Sound Farmer

Morning breeze bring the snail so tight; humming bird of coffee guide the light.
We plant with soul, no wire,
No gun; harvest peace when the mix done.
Don't miss the easy now; tune the ride,
Let the sky decide the tide.
All is seed; we sow it fed; turn to music, pure and great.
We are sound farmer,
Grow it deep; from the soil where the ancients sleep.