There’s too little sky for the birds, boy,
And too much fire for the fox;
There’s too little sea for the fishies,
And far too many rocks;
Too few trees to make forest,
And that’s how you got lost.
There’s so much love in the land, boy,
But none that you can sell,
So there’s no words left to your story
And no time left to tell;
All the things that live here yet
Have come to wish you well.
They know that you’ve tried hard, boy,
To change the way you are.
They hope you find a brave new world,
Around some other star.
They wish nothing but the best for you,
But they wish it from afar.
They want to give you goodbyes, boy,
Until they fill your pack;
They want to give you everything
That you so plainly lack,
And in their hearts their greatest hope
Is that you don’t come back.
