I was here and you were there
And it didn’t seem right and it doesn’t seem fair
Summertime was in the air
but noone knew and nobody cared

Fifteen years of flowers and fun
‘Til hands got lazy and noses run
Waiting for a woman while the west was won
But nothing was finished and nothing got done

Oh holy rollers rolled
The Shakers shook and tellers told
It’s good to be right and good to be bold
But nothing gets better when love grows old

Cities rise and cities fall
Then crumble down to nothing at all
We played the game so proud and tall
And then ran home without the ball

Oh holy molars mold
The takers took and the sellers sold
Blood runs hot and then runs cold
Then runs away when love grows old

And high above we stand and smile
But never go the extra mile
We tell our lies without the guile
Believing in them all the while

Former fallow fillies foal
While we pick diamonds from the coal
Calloused hands are fumbing cold
And clap in time while love grows old

Oh holy bowlers bowled
Failers filed and pollers polled
We play our cards until we fold
But the pot’s gone empty when love grows old

Rivers rise and rivers roll
We ring the bells and while they’d toll
We watched them as they riled and rolled
But lost our way when love grew old

©2004 Jonathan B. Whitcomb. All Rights Reserved