When you look out your window, what do you see?

I see trees in a line, they do not look free.

They yearn for the life of their wild-grown kin

Who store up the clear, mountain air within.

When you look out your window, what more do you see?

I see grass in exactly the place it should be.

There are also brown weeds that ruin the illusion

Of perfect green waves that are kept in seclusion.

But do not fear; never fear,

The grass does not jeer

At the sight of the weeds

For grass knows that they cannot control their seeds.

They just take off and fly

And land somewhere convenient nearby.

The grass, the weeds and the trees

They all have the same wicked disease.

That is, they are afflicted

To fertilizer they are addicted.

Another downside to being a plant

Is that they try to grow, but can't.

You see, after they have all grown

The now-big plants get mowed.

Or, in the case of trees,

Pruned.