It's the sad-eyed, goodbye, yesterday moments I remember.
It's the bleak street, weak-kneed partings I recall.
It's the mistier mist
The hazier days
The brighter sun
And the easier lays
There's all the more reason for laughing and crying
When you're younger and life isn't too hard at all.
It's the fantastic drowse of the afternoon Sundays
That bored you to rages of tears
The unending pleadings to waste all your good times
In thoughts of your middle-aged years
It's a vertical hold, all the things that you're told
For the everyday hero it all turns to zero.
And there's all the more reason for living or dying
When you're young and your troubles are all very small.
Out here on the street
We'd gather and meet
And scuff up the sidewalk with endlessly restless feet
Half of the time
We'd broaden our minds
More in the pool hall than we did in the school hall
With the downtown chewing-gum bums
Watching the nightlife, the lights and the fun.
Never wanted to be the boy next door,
Always thought I'd be something more,
But it ain't easy for a smalltown boy,
It ain't easy at all
Thinkin' it right, doin' it wrong,
It's easier from an armchair,
Waves of alternatives wash at my sleepiness,
Have my eggs poached for breakfast I guess.
(I think I'll be Clint Eastwood
Jimi Hendrix, he was good,
William The Conqueror
Now, who else do I like?)
