Plant A Garden In Which Strange Plants

High High In The Hills , High In A Pine Tree Bed. She's Tracing The Wind With That Old Hand, Counting The Clouds With That Old Chant, Three Geese In A Flock One Flew East One Flew West One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

But If The Strength Ain't Real, I Recall Thinking The Very Last Thing That Day, Before I Finally Passed Out, Then The Weakness Sure Enough Is. Weakness Is True And Real. I Used To Accuse The Kid Of Faking His Weakness. But Faking Proves The Weakness Is Real. Or You Wouldn't Be So Weak As To Fake It. No, You Can't Ever Fake Being Weak. You Can Only Fake Being Strong. . .

He Knows That You Have To Laugh At The Things That Hurt You Just To Keep Yourself In Balance, Just To Keep The World From Running You Plumb Crazy.

What Makes People So Impatient Is What I Can't Figure; All The Guy Had To Do Was Wait.

I Lay In Bed The Night Before The Fishing Trip And Thought It Over, About My Being Deaf, About The Years Of Not Letting On I Heard What Was Said, And I Wonder If I Can Ever Act Any Other Way Again. But I Remembered One Thing: It Wasn't Me That Started Acting Deaf; It Was People That First Started Acting Like I Was Too Dumb To Hear Or See Or Say Anything At All.