Poor old trees, I talk to them too much these days,
if they’re listening they know my voice, and they know my ways.
But it’s getting old, as I miss a soul, that could never be replaced,
trees have no arms, they have no heart and they have no face.

The grass is good to lie with, it’s such a faithful friend,
but it won’t stay green forever, only the days the sun can lend.
But when it’s there, thin and fair, you’re only on it for a while,
grass has no eyes, it has no laugh and it doesn’t have a smile.

The wind is such a comfort, it embraces you with the air,
but you’ll always be reminded that the protection isn’t there.
But when it aborts, all its support, you will find yourself so alone,
wind has no past, no family and it does not have a home.

The stars are such a shoulder, they’re there for all your tears,
they listen to your troubles and keep secrets of all your fears.
But they must leave, eventually, blocked by morning’s glow,
stars have no mind, they have no voice and they do not have a soul.