The thick emerald grass raises high to conceal
Children of this small town existing in a stifled morgue of dusty chance
Not all dreaming should be cast away, though unreal

Corn stuffed into orderly rows, golden in the setting sun, cannot their fates seal
Each cloaked in death by metallic-flavored well water that trickles down dry throats with a haunting dance
The thick emerald grass raises high to conceal

Shrill rooster crows rip through the surreal
Images of strong skyscrapers and gripping scenes of romance
Not all dreaming should be cast away, though unreal

Laborious hours fray delicate silk skin, callusing its feel
Assigned to push those small thirsty seeds into fresh cow feces, instead lost in a euphoric trance
The thick emerald grass raises high to conceal

Ragged sheep dogs playfully chase after a pig’s squeal
Freer from the chains around farmer-tanned arms, wrists, legs, ankles, than they will ever be, cemented in a prisoner’s stance
Not all dreaming should be cast away, though unreal

Crisp spring breeze scented feather pillows offer a quiet solace to reveal
Until sharp ends prick the head and soul of he who considered advance
The thick emerald grass raises high to conceal
Not all dreaming should be cast away, though unreal