Staring out the window
Wishing I were there
On a nice hill, oh
With green grass everywhere

The wind slightly blowing
The air is nice and warm
Through my hair, flowing
Around my body like a swarm.

I see blue skies and clouds
They're puffy and white
So plentiful and proud
The atmosphere is full of light.

I smile, this is my home out of town
I lay down in the grass
I'm with you, we make flower crowns.
I hear shattering glass.

Something is wrong, the scene changes.
The skies turn dark, the rivers run red
The differences flies through ranges.
The daydream has been misled.

I hear screams of a frightened teen
He runs down the hill with a knife.
The grass is no longer green
It is stained with blood and strife.

Rolling down the hill is a body
It keeps falling, it can't stop
The person rolls over the yellow poppies
It was a fresh new plant, now a dead crop

He falls to his knees and cries
His sleeve is shredded and blood red.
Tears flushing out of his eyes
The person rolling down the hill, is dead.