|
I, I tell you now the summer's dry |
|
I sweat my brow and wipe my hair when |
|
I do I could wear a shirt and tie everyday |
|
The diamond eyes are not the treasure they say |
|
Where's the "Catcher in the Rye" anyway |
|
O the tragedy |
|
Young rebels in their glory - misunderstood |
|
Such a calamity |
|
It's obvious the babes do steal the wood |
|
Another angry young man they say |
|
So sad that he lost his way |
|
Another angry young man they say |
|
O the youth how they drift away |
|
I, I tell you now the summer's high |
|
The forward cast of windswept dreams in the air |
|
I will run close to the edge - every time |
|
Between the wedge there lies a passion that's born |
|
I said a passion that's born - born |
|
O the tragedy |
|
Of unsung heroes searching for their cause |
|
Such a calamity |
|
The unrequited rebel without applause |
|
Another angry young man they say |
|
So sad that he lost his way |
|
Another angry young man they say |
|
O the youth how they drift away |
|
O the tragedy |
|
Young rebels in their glory - misunderstood |
|
Such a calamity |
|
It's obvious the babes do steal the wood |
|
Another angry young man they say |
|
So sad that he lost his way |
|
Another angry young man they say |
|
O the youth how they drift away, say |
|
Another angry young man they say |
|
I, I tell you now the summer's dry |
|
I tell you now the summer's dry. |