Plush green meadows, Serene cows and jumpy dogs. Where the river slows, Coming out through the logs.
Dewy grass and cool barn, Ripples and fallen leaves. Lies the stack of fresh yarn, Without a care for the thieves.
The fish and lamb and chicken and ham, Those tastes that never left. Wondering about the car in the jam, I am stuck in the heft.
It is time I ask my self, Will I ever breathe that chilly morning air? Will I ever listen to that silent river? Will I ever get my star, So that I go back to the land where it all began.