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When we were young and the world seemed fine, |
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My dad bought a cottage underneath the pine |
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By the shores of a lake with a funny name, |
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We used to go there just the same. |
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He never said a word about snakes and bees; |
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Gooey stuff leaking from the bark of trees; |
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Thunderstorms loud enough to split your head... |
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... But it's a lifestyle. |
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You sold the cottage. |
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You sold the cottage. |
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You sold the cottage. |
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You sold the cottage. |
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The golden memories flood back: |
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- Prickle bushes. |
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- Bloodsuckers between the toes on the lake bottom. |
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- Falling out of the tree fort. |
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- Being bitten by the chipmumk that lived underneath the boathouse. |
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Horseflies dining on my back, |
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B.B.Q. heaven burned to black, |
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Motorboat havoc kept me on the shore, |
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Suntan fever to migrarne roar. |
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Overheating as I lay in bed, |
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Blankets wrapped around my head, |
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No way spiders landed on my face... |
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... But it's a lifestyle. |
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You sold the cottage. |
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You sold the cottage. |
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You sold the cottage. |
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You sold the cottage. |
