I'm stuck in a city, but I belong in a field.

I'm tired of feelin' sick and useless, then speakin' every other way; gluin' my eyes together, boy, might be the right escape. There's nothin in the secret garden, just images of blue and white; losin' my mind forever, boy, maybe the only sign. Down in a country yard, I was taken by the shadows, although we couldn't see that far; I was dreamin' of tomorrow, I really don't need a change, I really don't need what's mine. Out in a country yard, it'll be just fine.