The Story of the Grass
I see the way to the middle of the woods Grasses are brown I suppose it should Such as a sad and slender course But it guides you towards your cause The feet that touch to the leaves and roots Might be a burden that no one hopes The pain that catches of its nerves can bare For the people to use once they retire. The grass deserves the life will be To live with glee and abundantly But the grass chooses to stay For people to find their way.