You cut me down a tree
And brought it back to me
And that's what made me see
Where I was going wrong

You put me on a shelf
And kept me for yourself
I can only blame myself
You can only blame me

And I could write a song
A hundred miles long
Well, that's where I belong
And you belong with me

And I could write it down
Or spread it all around
Get lost and then get found
Or swallowed in the sea

You put me on a line
And hung me out to dry
And darling that's when I
Decided to go to see you

You cut me down to size
And opened up my eyes
Made me realize
What I could not see

And I could write a book
The one they'll say that shook
The world, and then it took
It took it back from me

And I could write it down
Or spread it all around
Get lost and then get found
And you'll come back to me
Not swallowed in the sea

Ooh...

And I could write a song
A hundred miles long
Well, that's where I belong
And you belong with me

The streets you're walking on
A thousand houses long
Well, that's where I belong
And you belong with me

Oh what good is it to live
With nothing left to give
Forget but not forgive
Not loving all you see

All the streets you're walking on
A thousand houses long
Well that's where I belong
And you belong with me
Not swallowed in the sea

You belong with me
Not swallowed in the sea

What if there was no liFE
Nothing wrong, nothing right.
What if there was no time?
And no reason or rhyme?
What if you should decide
That you don't want me there by your side.
That you don't want me there in your life.

What if I got it wrong?
And no poem or song..
Could put right what I got wrong,
Or make you feel I belong
What if you should decide
That you don't want me there by your side
That you don't want me there in your life.

That's right
Let's take a breath, jump over the side
That's right
How can you BLOW it if you don't even try?
That's right

Every step that you take
Could be your biggest mistake
It could bend or it could break
But that's the risk that you take
What if you should decide
That you don't want me there in your life.
That you don't want me there by your side.

Това е писмено детско съчинение, което се съхранява в педагогическия музей в Париж. Темата му е да се опише птица или бозайник.

"Птицата, за която ще пиша, е бухaлът. Бухaлът не се вижда денем, а нощем е по-сляп и от къртица. Не знам нищо особено за бухaла, затова ще продължа с друго животно, което си избирам - кравата.

Кравата е бозайник. Има шест страни: лява, дясна, горна и долна. В задната страна има опашка, от която виси четка. С тази четка се гонят мухите, за да не падат в млякото. Главата служи да излизат рога от нея и, освен това, защото устата трябва да стои някъде. Рогата са за да се бие с тях. От долната страна е млякото. Оборудвана е така, че да може да се дои. Когато я доят, идва млякото и вече не спира. Как го прави това? Никога не съм го разбирал, но то тече с още по-голямо изобилие.

Мъжът на кравата е бикът. Бикът не е бозайник. Кравата не яде много, но онова, което изяжда, го яде на два пъти и така има достатъчно. Когато е гладна, мучи, а когато не казва нищо, значи, че вътре е пълна с трева. Краката й стигат до земята. Кравите имат много развито обоняние, поради което можеш да ги подушиш от много далече. И заради това въздухът в полето е толкова чист."