My Indian friend once came to me
While I was sitting in the old oak tree
He asked me what I was doing up there
As he sat on the old wooden chair
I started to answer in a normal tone
While throwing a flat and shiny stone
The ground is crack from the lack of rain
And I hear the farmer complaining not be able to plant their grain
The kids don’t want to go to school
And the parents just want to drink their booze
The government is fighting among them self
And trying to put our president on the shelf
The world is crippled from a nasty disease
As we watch it put us to our knees
The world is moving in a rapid race
And at times I feel so out of place
So I thought I would sit up here and get away
And remember the good times how we use to play