A certain peace befalls us
As we stroll through these fields
Where the grass grows so high
I've been here before
It's where I played as a child
3 weeks every summer

I still smell the scent of the barn
That held home
To 16 cows
Here they cut off the horns
And feed them hormones
But not where I come from

Their warm coat colored brown and white
I still hear the lady call them out
Her voice echoes
Through the hallways of my memory.
Here we stopped being
The girls from the city

Each august it was time to harvest
We carried the pitch forks
In our small hands
To the fields where the tractors
Slowly drove by
Skin scratched open
From the insect bites

The burden of hay allergy
But we never loved it less
We caught mise in the barn
Build beds of hay blocks
Swam in the lakes
And took long walks

Toward the end of the cow's labor
With our bare hands
We aided the calf in to this world.
And watched their first steps
And offered them their first milk
We sighed from boredom
And screamed of exitement

There where the grass grows so high.