Its hard to see in these clouds

What seemed so far is coming soon

Four more years of studying

Then I will live what I've dreamed for years

Every field by the highway

Will transform from dying grass

Into jobs and food for the city

Instead of handing out food and money

Which in turn keeps the poor where they are

I will employ them for this work

Where fields will turn into orchards

Where they will harvest and work

Maybe bamboo fields or forest

where they will cut and sell

Or cows where they will milk

Or sheep's wool made into clothes

The dead space will be used for good

A city once dull and overthrown

in technology and monontony

will be transformed into a living organism

where the barren fields will yield fruit

Birds will sing once again

Cars driving by will stop to see

This beautiful thing growing

the unemployed given occupation

The community being fed by its own land

Cars driving by will stop to see

This little dream that came to be