Simple Joys

Well, I'll sing you the story of a sorrowful lad

He had everything he wanted

Didn't want what he had

He had wealth and pelf and name and fame

And all of that noise

But he didn't have none of those simple joys

His life seemed purposeless and flat

Aren't you glad you don't feel like that?

So, he ran from all the deeds he'd done

He ran from things he'd just begun

He ran from himself

Which was mighty far to run

Out into the country where he played as a boy

He knew he had to find him some simple joy

He wanted someplace warm and green

We all could use a change of scene

Sweet summer evenings

Hot wine and bread

Sharing your supper

Sharing your bed

Simple joys have a simple voice

That says, "why not go ahead?"

And wouldn't you

Rather be a left-handed flea

Or a crab on a slab at the bottom of the sea

Than a man who never learns how to be free?

Not 'til he's cold and dead

And wouldn't you

Rather be a left-handed flea

A crab on a slab at the bottom of the sea

Or a newt on the root of a banyan tree

Than a man who never learns how to be free?

Not 'til the day he dies

Sweet summer evenings

Sapphire skies

Feasting your belly

Feasting your eyes

Simple joys have a simple voice

That says, "time is living's prize"

And wouldn't you

Rather be a left-handed flea

A crab on a slab at the bottom of the sea

A newt on the root of a banyan tree

Or a fig on a twig in Galilee

Than a man who never learns how to be free?

Not 'til the day he

Not 'til the day he

Not 'til the day

Not 'til the day he

Dies