| Spirits in the basement speak to the soccer moms
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| With an ancient good witch’s code
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| There’s a general store hey don’t bust the screen door
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| What’s your hurry for you’re only ten years old
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| City boy on a train ride through the country
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| Where the rivers are as wide as his eyes
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| Side by side the chapel with the forbidden apple
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| And the weeping willow only sighs
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| Paint the yellows and the reds of autumn
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| Convey the stillness of bar-code trees
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| Or that Bonnie and Clyde car rusting in the shade
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| Where they swerved off the road so long ago
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| There’s a green blanket that rolls over the hills
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| And valleys of this heart breaking land
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| She left Metropolis to make a home here
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| But one day she’ll paint the desert sands
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| City boy…
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| Don’t let it bug you that you’re not behind the wheel
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| New England hugs you like a real grandfather
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| And you know you’ll never stay here it’s way too nice
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| Try and find a place where you belong
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| So all aboard the chew chew you know it behoves you
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| They say love is on the loose broke out of the caboose
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| All the way through New Haven with the yankee doodle dandies
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| Commuters headed further than the Amtrak goes
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| There are no tracks there I bet you can relax there
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| Beneath the swaying palms with the boom boxes on, Mmm-huh
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| Ooh La La… |