Is the Grass Really Greener (In the Green Mountain State)?

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Brian K & The Parkway

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The river turned red by the middle of March
And I wasn't waiting for croaking to start
Or pestilence, locusts, or seas to part
Get ready, promised land, wherever you are
I brewed a fresh pot to plot our escape
We had to think fast, lest succumb to this fate
But nowhere seemed right, nowhere seemed safe
'Til that little bird landed on my garden gate
She said, Bennington, Burlington, Woodstock or bust
Fresh air for seasons, neighborly trust
Hit the road son, there's no time to debate
The grass is really greener in the Green Mountain State
I dreamt that night of a scorching sky
The birches turned black, the maples went dry
Both townies and transplants gave us the side-eye
Still sounds better than here, so let's give it a try
And go Bennington, Burlington, Woodstock or bust
We'll live off the grid, shake off the dust
So let's hit the road, there's no time to debate
Bennington, Burlington, Bernie or bust
To the gods of the hills I will render my trust
So I'm go'in to find out, before it's too late
Is the grass really greener in the Green Mountain State
Green Mountain State
Green Mountain State
Green Mountain State

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