Green grass

 No use thinking that the

Grass is always greener

That the smoke is always cleaner

Or that blokes are always meaner

Than a muscle in a clam

For the wheels on the tram

They still go round and round

Still tell me who I am

On the great Grandstand

No use thinking the stage is wider

Or that you won't be an outsider

When you really only plan

When you live in a caravan 

I don't know who I am

But the wheels on the pram

They still go round and round

And what circles do not crowd?

And what silence is not loud

Or what silver lining has each cloud

So see through new eyes open

Don't think of what is broken

For each demon has an angel

Whose words are yet unspoken

But here is a hopin'