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A lonely yellow light gets swallowed |
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By the morning in New Hampshire |
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And casts a shadow on the pavement |
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Where we used to walk together |
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Put in a small town made of hills and trees |
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And these dream's all you've got to believe |
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This is what you dream |
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I know she will make it, somehow |
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'Cause she is from New Hampshire |
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She said, she wants to see it all |
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Putting on her make-up |
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She is making her last telephone call |
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She says, she's leaving me now |
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My eyes are following the lines |
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That lead away from New Hampshire |
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'Cause she's gone out of view |
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And taken with her clarity and laughter |
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Put in a big town made of hard and scary things |
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All you've got to believe |
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In is what you dream |
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I know she will make it, somehow |
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'Cause she is from New Hampshire |
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She said, she wants to see it all |
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Putting on her make-up |
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She is making her last telephone call |
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She says, she's leaving |
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Why is growing up so bad for love? |
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It takes us further from what means the most to me |
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The most in us has gone away |
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But she is from New Hampshire |
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She said, she wants to see it all |
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Putting on her make-up |
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She is making her last telephone call |
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She says, she's leaving me now |
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She says, she's leaving me now |
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She says, she's leaving me now |
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New Hampshire |
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New Hampshire |
