Grass sways, wind whispers call my name
Come, it beckons, and I know life will never be the same
I yearn for steep hills and vast blue skies
I weep for the comfort of rolling waves at low tides
Yet high prices and low income
Have us all on the run
A nomadic group, this family
That searches for stability
We stop at last in a barren land
With gulf shores incomparable to my home's sand
Flattened plains, dying grass
I've had enough at last
To college I'll go- a grand place of learning
I'll learn how to cure my yearning
Though home is home, adaptation is a must
I don't want my salary to be a bust
Now an idea has come, what will I do?
Why, I'll earn my way to a job that's true
A nice occupation, that will allow me to pay
For a one-story house on the hills of C?l-?-f?r-nï-?