Blades of Grass
Blades of grass
Whispering to the southeast wind
Blades of grass
Yelling as they roll and bend
Blades of grass
They're rolling up and down, up and down, ever so fast
Blades of grass
Nod their heads, bend down, and together they wave
To the fields of poppies
To the fields of poppies
The blades of grass
Are rolling, and swaying, ever so fast
They race with the wind
They live for their everlasting past
The blades of grass
The blades of grass
Roll and wave to the fields of poppies
The fields of poppies
The fields of poppies
The fields of poppies, sing their song
They all sing along:
"It's too soon,
It's not our time
Let her be plucked
And sold for a dime"
The fields of poppies sing, as they burn and burn and burn with their blossoming beauty.
But the blades of grass just silently wave and roll.
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