(Dobie Gray / Eddie Sester / John Greenbaum). . Well, I was raised up by the golden rule. In an old house with a patched up roof. We had a hard home but it pulled us close.
Looking back a hundred years. On daughters and sons of the land. Who're standing here, holding a fistful of dirt. Watching it slip through my hands. .
I wouldn't count the times we talked about tomorrow. And I wouldn't sing the lines if some one played our song. On lonely nights like this when I need a friend.
I wouldn't count the times we talked about tomorrow. I wouldn't sing the lines when someone played our song. On lonely nights like this when I need a friend.
I wouldn't count the times we talked about tomorrow. And I wouldn't sing the lines if some one played our song. On lonely nights like this when I need a friend.
I wouldn't count the times we talked about tomorrow. And I wouldn't sing the lines if some one played our song. On lonely nights like this when I need a friend.