The Poet grabs up his pen and pad he needs fresh air
he gotta get out of the house.
He hit the woods without a care he needs to get his creative juices
flowing, he sits on a log looks and drinks in all of the beauty
knowing if someone painted it it would be a master piece
He gets in touch with his inter feeling getting everything of his chest
theirs nothing he would rather be doing then writing.
He know he only wants to change the world for the better
bring world peace and love.
as the sun starting to set he must get home
before he gets caught in the haunted woods