but
but all I was doing was sitting in the grass
watching the river flow
so how could I know of the cities and towns
- what passes for life in them
but all I was saying is that, in this old world,
there’s beauty enough for all
so why should I care about ghettos and slums
and people who live by the gun
but you say that money is a clear indication
of life successfully lived
so am I a failure because I own nothing but
the clothes on my back and a smile
and a mind that is free of the shackles and chains
with the will to be footloose and free
but I think that you envy the way that I live
my freedom to go where I please
so pack up your sarcasm, your wit, and repartee
get your bags on the nearest train
and I’ll think about you on the next mountaintop
that I climb in my quest to be free
so don’t cry or don’t scoff for I don’t really care
if you should never think of me
