• I got the wind in my hair,
    sun in my eyes.
    Seems to be,
    Clear Blue Skies.

    My bare brown legs
    glisten with beads of sweat,
    as I plead and beg
    for this to never end.

    The smell of
    smoke on the air
    the fern fronds blowin'
    I think I'd like a pear.

    For the juice that runs down my chin,
    for the sweet juice that grows sticky.
    To give the core back to the earth and let it grow again.

    Now the sky is turning into hues of
    red, orange and gold,
    this will never get old.

    The smell of smoke, pear and the wind in my hair.
    This is the smell of summer.
    Pray that it will be Clear Blue Skies,
    coming on the air.