In the Country

There's a concrete forest in the country,
Where the houses are all droll,
With bricks to sing songs of plot and life,
In the spiral of the monotone,
Where faces are all bland and unmemorably real,
The children all straight in line,
The dogs all shy to bark,
The fog bends among the concrete forest,
High do the glass towers rise above the sky fog,
On weekends the grass is cut and smells fresh,
Every night the sky parts from the fog at the witching hour,
But suddenly!
So suddenly!
The concrete turns to green,
The fog lifting,
Children start to bark,
Dogs start to giggle,
...There's a forest in the country....