As we walk through the streets of. Another Mayberry dead leaves blow. Into the windows and crackle underneath our feet. . And as I look into the distance.
We keep each other in the air. And from there we're afraid of falling down. She don't believe I really care. Oh, she'll be runnin' as soon as we reach the ground.
He's an American boy with his hair combed back. He's gonna buy himself a nice new car. He's gonna marry one of them pretty cookin' wives. And die alone in a big old house.