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?)
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