On my own,
alone,
with the wind,
and the sun,
on my own alone outdoors,
with no wish to run,
on my own alone,
not worrying about the time or how fast it goes,
not caring about anything except the moment,
only caring about the present,
only caring about the here and the now,
and happy,
happy in the sunshine glow,
happy alone,
happy with no stress and no anxiety,
amongst the miracle of nature,
in the countryside where I often roam,
and how good it is,
how good it is being alone,
alone with only happy thoughts,
and no home,
no home for the stresses and the anxieties in my mind,
and no worldly troubles inside,
no worldly troubles inside me,
but only joy and contentment,
in the solitude and the soliloquy,
and what better a place could there be,
than in the green fields as the sun it shines down,
as upon my face there is no unhappy frown,
and there is only inspiration before me,
upon the hill,
upon the hill in the peace and the quiet of the day,
looking towards the distant sea.
as the birds they sing,
the birds they sing so cheerfully,
oh,
oh, what better a place could there be to be?
No, none at all,
none at all for me.