On that pleasant spring morning,
when the birds are out and performing
and the sun's rays are warming
...
Back in the days of wine and roses
Photographs were perfect poses
Of a happy young couple grinning
We were at the top of the first inning
...
He is yesterday's hero
Enlisted to save the French
Got gassed fighting from a trench
...
I was enjoying being alone
In my dimly lit comfort zone
Reading about Joey Ramone
In the latest issue of Rolling Stone
...
Walkin' After Midnight was playing
And she was seductively swaying
Then she tossed back a shot of whiskey
And said she was feeling a bit frisky
...
Arrived at the right place but at the wrong time
Brandishing your tenderness like organized crime
Affection towards me as pleasing as caustic lime
...
Today, Indiana sadly buried one of its own
A young man killed in a foreign combat zone
A kid really, he was only nineteen
He had always wanted to be a Marine
...
We serenely sat on the front porch swing
Listening to a mockingbird sing
It was nearly dusk at her family's homestead
She broke off a hunk of French bread
...
It was a strange but not unusual alliance
That involved a conspiracy of silence
Yet he knew better, but still hoped for
Something she continued to ignore
...
She sits in rainy solitude
Serenely waiting his return
Just time and quietude
...