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Today's the fourth of july |
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Another june has gone by |
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And when they light up our town |
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I just think |
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What a waste of gunpowder and sky |
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I'm certain that |
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I am alone |
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In harbouring thoughts of our home |
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It's one of my faults that |
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I can't quell my past |
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I ought to have gotten it gone |
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Oh, baby, |
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I wonder - |
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If when you are older - |
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Someday-You'll wake up |
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And say, 'my god, |
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I should have told her - |
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What would it take? |
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But now here |
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I am and the world's gotten colder |
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And she's got the river down which |
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I sold her.' |
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So that's today's memory lane |
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With all the pathos and pain |
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Another chapter in a book where the chapters are endless |
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And they're always the same |
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A verse, then a verse, and refrain |
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Oh, baby, |
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I wonder - |
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If when you are older - |
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Someday-You'll wake up |
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And say, 'my god, |
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I should have told her - |
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What would it take? |
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But now here |
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I am and the world's gotten colder |
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And she's got the river down which |
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I sold her.' |
