Standing alone, in a tearful refrain, The girl from the hills sighs in vain, People scutter by as she unbu*tons one bu*ton from her pretty city dress Watching the sun lend the sky to the moon, And it's times like these, she yearns to be, back where the air doesn't bleed, And the birds whisper words of tranquility, She yearns to be... Yearns to be She looks to the sky in a daze of deep dismay, And she questions all her troubles and her strifes of life, Oh...for wealth is from the heart, not a car, a house or a plastic credit card For every tear you lose a diamond from your crown And it's times like these, she yearns to be, Back under that old apple tree, Where she'd dance and she'd sing to this melody, She'd sing to me, she'd sing to me And it's times like these when the world's so cruel that she'd hear this voice inside her call...