when the sky is a bright canary yellow
i forget every cloud i've ever seen
so they call me a cockeyed optimist
immature and incurably green
i have heard people rant and rave and bellow
that we're done and we might as well be dead
but i'm only a cockeyed optimist
and i can't get it into my head
i hear the human race is falling on its face
and hasn't very far to go
but every whippoorwill is selling me a bill
and telling me it just ain't so
i could say life is just a bowl of jello
and appear more intelligent and smart
but i'm stuck like a joke with a thing called hope
and i can't get it out of my heart
not this heart
the lord