Two doors down on Sundays

You can see a dozen smiles

And in the tavern down the way

A dozen more, or so they say

 

And right next door, the neighbors

Light up fireworks at night

Listen closely, you can hear

Children laugh and people cheer

 

Down the street in April

You see cherry blossoms bloom

A whole house covered so it seems

Like something from a summer dream

 

But does it matter what the view is?

Whether down the street or Rome?

Tell me, is grass greener

If you never leave your home?