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all fall down
The cows are in the meadow
Eating buttercups
A-tishoo, a-tishoo
We all get up
Ring a ring o’ roses
A pocketful of posies
A-tishoo,
let me understand religion

Way, way back, way back
When you walked, in a green field, in a green meadow
Down an avenue of trees
On a, on a golden
Ring-a-ring o' roses,
A pocket full of posies,
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fall down.

The Cows are in the meadow
Eating buttercups
A-tishoo!
Love of Light (words and music by Kyra)
Frogs jumping in meadows of golden buttercups
Slow stream running near by a waterfall down the trickling path
the pennies grow on bushes
And you sleep out every night
And the cows are in the meadows
And they're eating buttercups
I'm bound to go where there ain't
the pennies grow on bushes
And you sleep out every night
And the cows are in the meadows
And they're eating buttercups
I'm bound to go where there ain't
Down the meadow
Secrets are told
Down the meadow
Roads are made near the flowers lays
Down the meadow
Skip across the rocks just near the river
Listen up Buttercup
It's time to pick the pieces of us
Pick them up Buttercup
And put them back together cos

Without you, my brain can never doubt
STRAM
			Å,GUD...

(In English):
A defamatory song to Reason
-Now the meadow's bathing in the summer sun a vail's drifting slowly northwards
And the creek
chocolate wearing yellow
Had to move her to my garden
From that meadow in the ghetto
Say she love me love me not
Got damn she got too many petals
No good
a track race
You niggas in last place
And I just caught the gold medal
She let me play in her meadows
I was steppin' in a puddle
I'm a boss, a different
Amid the grasses
He fumbles for his glasses
Turns another page of poetry.
Dragonflies are darting
July is just starting
Meadows roll as far as you
a common dream
Watch the passing landscape gliding by in clouds of steam

Woodland shades of violet gloom
Cows stand in buttercup bloom
Sheep graze
week 
I recall you were gone when I needed you most 
Now you call like you want what I got so I ghost 

Swoon my little buttercup 
True to her stuff 
I
of shining whiteness

Buttercups have honeyed hearts
Bees they love the clover
But I love the daisies' dance
All the meadow over

Blow, Oh blow, you happy
a place, way out in old Appalachia
Where the chicory blooms to a chickadees tune and she plucks the mint and buttercups

CHORUS
My old fashioned gal   
Is

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