Every day Asteria tends her quail

A hundred years and she's still not frail

Generations of lonely children

They come to her sick and pale

But like magic she heals them without fail

Some call her a witch

A myth and a hoax

But really she's a hippie at most

Every night Asteria gazes up at the stars

Out here in the country an escape from the cars

A millenium without love

But from lonely she is far

Every night she looks up and picks a star

And as she lays to down to sleep

She weaves dreams for all the children to see

A little world happy and free

A perfect world for you and me