Know your place in life is where you want to be. Don't let them tell you that you owe it all to me. Keep on looking forward, no use in looking 'round.
A hot and windy August afternoon has the trees in constant motion. With a flash of silver leaves as they're rocking in the breeze. The boy lies in the grass with one blade stuck between his teeth.
Our first stop is in Bogota. To check Colombian fields. The natives smile and pass along. A sample of their yield. Sweet Jamaican pipe dreams. Golden Acapulco nights.
When they turn the pages of history. When these days have passed long ago. Will they read of us with sadness. For the seeds that we let grow?. We turned our gaze.