It's two in the morning on Saturday night at Rosalie's Good Eats Cafe. The onions are frying the neon is bright and the jukebox is startin' to play. And the sign on the wall says In God We Trust all others have to pay.
Does anyone know of a girl who might like a tired old boy on a rusty old bike. Who just pulled in today from the Florida Glades. And just got to stop and rest awhile and rest awhile.
Rings of grass crowns of flowers they're gone gone gone gone. Furs that I woven of whispering hours gone gone gone gone. She's gone away where the rings are real.
(S. Silverstein). . Rings of grass, crowns of flowers. Gone, gone, gone, gone. Furs that are woven of whispering hours. Gone, gone, gone, gone. . She's gone away where the rings are real.