On hillside of green I lay back in the grass,
Clouds going by, I watch as they pass.
They remind me of time, some fast some slow.
You get a choice in this life, that much I know.
The days that I spend beneath my favorite old oak,
Philosophical thoughts are always evoked.
My days inside are too many, too much,
I wish I could feel the grasses’ cool touch.
It’ll be there tomorrow, if tomorrow there’ll be,
You’ll find me, daydreaming, beneath my favorite old tree.