Standing alone, in a tearful refrain,nThe girl from the hills sighs in vain,nPeople scutter by as she unbuttons one button from her pretty city dressnWatching the sun lend the sky to the moon,nAnd it's times like these, she yearns to be, back where the air doesn't bleed,nAnd the birds whisper words of tranquility,nShe yearns to be...nYearns to bennShe looks to the sky in a daze of deep dismay,nAnd she questions all her troubles and her strifes of life,nOh...for wealth is from the heart, not a car, a house or a plastic credit cardnFor every tear you lose a diamond from your crownnnAnd it's times like these, she yearns to be,nBack under that old apple tree,nWhere she'd dance and she'd sing to this melody,nShe'd sing to me, she'd sing to mennAnd it's times like these when the world's so cruel that she'd hear this voice inside her call...