| There’s a big white house on a leafy street
|
| On a summer’s day of 1963
|
| Station wagons parked in the drive
|
| Dents in the fender and wood on the side
|
| There’s kids and dogs and instamatic cubes squinting hard in the sun
|
| Not just yet, but one day too
|
| They’ll be chasing what’s already gone
|
| You grow up tall and you grow up tough
|
| Trying to never admit not feeling good enough
|
| Until you find your passion and you find your way
|
| Just trying to make it unscathed through every day
|
| And it seems to happen nearly overnight
|
| Life shows you who you’ve become
|
| And there’s no more mystery in the fading light
|
| You’re just chasing what’s already gone
|
| Like the line that spells the far horizon
|
| Moving with you as fast as you can run
|
| Half your life you pay it no attention
|
| The rest you can’t stop wondering
|
| What you should have done
|
| Instead of chasing what’s already gone
|
| Saw my father in a dream last night
|
| He was smiling and saying «You're gonna be all right»
|
| And this morning I stared back at myself
|
| Feeling as empty as I’ve ever felt
|
| But I keep on going and I hope I’ve learned
|
| More of what’s right than what’s wrong
|
| It’s ashes and roses and time that burns
|
| When you’re chasing what’s already gone
|
| Ashes and roses and hearts that break
|
| I tried so hard to be strong
|
| But maybe my worries were not my first mistake
|
| I’m chasing what’s already gone |