If each summer's day came and passed as before
If each night the moon through this window shone
I'd smell the sweet grass through the old screen door
And explore the treetops I once had known

The sun rose each morning, over the hills
And the flowers reached out, crying for water
The endless meadows, the winding dirt road
And wishing I was her perfect daughter

But the suns have set for a final time
Past the porch swing, the meadow, the hills
No more gardens to plant or trees to climb
They've fallen to silence, frozen and still

Now city clamor detains me from sleep
And places that only my dreams do keep