Where there's greener pastures, greener pastures, too.
There's a shepherd modest and true.
He wakes at fluorescent sky's peak;
never dies, never thinks of the bleak. Looks abroad, gives glance to a neighbor
bathing in gems of sparkling splendor. Not content, he tends to his sheep,
nd glares at the other man's heap.
There once was a shepherd modest and true.
But there's greener pastures, greener pastures, too.
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