In this real worldI can feel the long grassBrush my kneesAnd hear the soft whisperOf the breeze callingGo home, go homeAs the daylight turns to night.

In this real worldI can see black specksCircling the skyUsing high-pitched squeaksAs they locate each otherIn the twilight.

In this real worldI can almost tasteThe sweetness of summerOn my lipsAs the bullfrogs callGoodnight, goodnight.