After school,
She treks through the woods,
Behind her house,
To a small meadow.
She takes off the bag,
That was sitting by the front door,
And she drinks lemonade,
And plays the guitar.
Life is simpler in the woods,
Who wouldn’t want to be there?
After school,
She treks through the woods,
Behind her house,
To a small meadow.
She takes off the bag,
That was sitting by the front door,
And she drinks lemonade,
And plays the guitar.
Life is simpler in the woods,
Who wouldn’t want to be there?
Perfectly Imperfect Me 