On many an idle day
I grieved over lost times
Moaned and groaned and rolled my bones
But there is no lost time
You've taking every moment of mine and put it into yours

Hidden in the heart of things
You make seeds into sprouts
And hidden in the heart of things
You make buds into flowers
And hidden in the heart of things
You make flowers into edible things

I was tired and sleeping on my idle bed one night
And I imagined all the work had ended for the night
But in the morning I woke up and found my house was bright

What majestic treats do you still have in store for me?
A breath of death, a day of rest and, oh, make me wealthy
And in the arms of your old charms, let me forever bask
Is that too much to ask?