Standing alone, in a tearful refrain,
The girl from the hills sighs in vain,
People scutter by as she unbuttons one button from her 
pretty city dress
Watching the sun lend the sky to the moon,
And it's times like these, she yearns to be, back where 
the air doesn't bleed,
And the birds whisper words of tranquility,
She yearns to be...
Yearns to be

She looks to the sky in a daze of deep dismay,
And she questions all her troubles and her strifes of 
life,
Oh...for wealth is from the heart, not a car, a house or 
a plastic credit card
For every tear you lose a diamond from your crown

And it's times like these, she yearns to be,
Back under that old apple tree,
Where she'd dance and she'd sing to this melody,
She'd sing to me, she'd sing to me

And it's times like these when the world's so cruel that 
she'd hear this voice inside her call...