To the man who was told to sell apples:
I always wondered what would make a man so proud
As to give away apples when he was told to sell them
Were you afraid? Afraid that everyone might've been right about you?
Reach for the stars
A hand full of air
Is better than a handful of mud,
Though some would argue against that
Those are the greedy ones
Who grab and steal and take,
Who sell apples for a profit,
Who don't reap what they sow.
But they never get stars do they?
No, never. They get mud