Little birds sitting in the trees singing
a song so sweet it can not be beat.
A crow flying by so high in the sky looking for something to eat.
The sound of a creek flowing towards the river, with fish jumping into the air.
Looking up at the mountains so high
it hurts knowing that some people could care less if the little animals lived or died
It makes my heart shiver with disdain to think what is going to happen next,
to the deer romping and playing in the sunshine.
No moonshine made here,everything is to near.
Civilization has moved into their habitat ,
now they know nothing but fear.
As my mind remembers a better time and place tears roll down my cheeks
just to think how weak we have become when property is more important,.
and everything else is a game and nothing remains the same.
Written by Judith Collins
a song so sweet it can not be beat.
A crow flying by so high in the sky looking for something to eat.
The sound of a creek flowing towards the river, with fish jumping into the air.
Looking up at the mountains so high
it hurts knowing that some people could care less if the little animals lived or died
It makes my heart shiver with disdain to think what is going to happen next,
to the deer romping and playing in the sunshine.
No moonshine made here,everything is to near.
Civilization has moved into their habitat ,
now they know nothing but fear.
As my mind remembers a better time and place tears roll down my cheeks
just to think how weak we have become when property is more important,.
and everything else is a game and nothing remains the same.
Written by Judith Collins
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