Oh mountain come down when I speak to you.

To a blade of glass you will shrink to.

Upon the noonday sun is a welcome to all.

All but the workers of the Indie hildaw.

For inside the ground lies life itself.

One blade of grass will give me the best.

Cut me or eat me makes no difference at all.

When blades of grass become fields so tall.

Waters give growth to the mother and child.

To feed the earth and such is divine.

For glory is here upon this land watching and working out his plan.

He made you special, he made you unique.

Just like the blade of grass cows eats.

His anger brings storms to keep us in check.

Cherish the sun all you stiff-necked.

One little seed holds the world together.

One final word will change all the weather.

So lie in the grass in fields so high.

And watch your maker light up the sky so high.

Such a glorious thing was spoken with word.

For ye are not of this world the one not heard.

For good grass doth grow and dead grass is thrown.

So the same with this life of mine.

One blade of grass.