Down below the seasons, hills and snow The place that I call home Up above the sunshine, sand and mosquito bugs The places I dream of Here today, pulled a hundred different ways Monetary need rules our days But what a sad thing it would be To submit our lives to toiling Instead of following a dream This land, it beckons to be seen And I am free to answer its plea The only hand keeping my stationary It is my own The world, it beckons to be seen And we are free to answer its plea The only hand keeping us stationary It is our own