Nature gave us eyes to see, eyues to see
All her gorgeous scenery, her gorgeous scenery
From tiny puddles in a field say
To miles and miles of open sea.
Yes nature gave us eyes to see, all her grogeous scenery
But things are often not what they appear to be
That's right, you hear me
And when the sense of reality doth flee
And when the sense of reality doth flee
Oh when the sense, oh when the sense, oh when the sense of reality doth flee
Then writers give us eyes to see
Eyes to see really real rality, really real reality
Take that fine gent; doesn't he look content?
That's the great Salieri, a man of much renown.
Well might he, it would seem, have a sweet blissful dream
He's the most succesful composer in this town
But his heart's full of bile, envy lurks all the while, envy for that man right there,
for he knows that he will ne'er compose a work asgood as those that Mozart throws away
Hey what can I say?
Nature gave us eyes to see, eyes to see
But writers give us ecstasy, writers give us ecstasy
For poems are made by folks like me,
Hey, but God can only make a tree, yes God can only make a tree
Poems are made by folks like me, me , me me memememememememememememememem
talkin' 'bout me
Whoo! thank God I'm a country boy