I oft' desire elsewhere
Some exotic city or jungle afar
blazin' down the highway to hell
To the moon, maybe different realms altogether
'Cause the grass is always greener in Renaissance hues
and the sky is seldom bluer from a Parisian saunt.
The paradox of life is rarely as sharp as the apex of Great Canyons
And the streets never swoon so savvy as after a waltz with Johnny Walker
But the sky is crystal clear from my Park bench
And the squirrels stand up straight in the succulent finish
Of walnut and cedar and pine trees
And rose bushes bathed in sunshine
Yay, I wander often after my wonderlust
Then I stop and I listen and the world is hushed
Away from cars and jobs and money and things
I'm brought back to now and in my happiness I sing..