| Do, do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do
|
| In the summers of our innocence
|
| We rode our skateboards hopped the fence
|
| Fishing poles and earth worms in a tin
|
| We were flying kites and skipping stones
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| Playing Indiana Jones
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| With scraped up arms and knees and sunburnt skin
|
| We built a tree house we were young
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| We didn’t care if we got stung
|
| So we kept batting beehives just for fun
|
| With our walkie talkies in our hand
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| And codes no one could understand
|
| It was one for all and all for one
|
| Do, do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do
|
| In those summer nights, we’d sneak outside
|
| Our bottle rockets lit the sky
|
| Our sling shot aimed at lizards, birds and toads
|
| We were cowboys, pirates, musketeers
|
| And in our backpacks we would smuggle beers
|
| We jumped into the river with no clothes
|
| We were climbing walls in cut off jeans
|
| And looked at dirty magazines
|
| At night wet dreams, then blue balls in the sun
|
| So with bows and arrows in our hand
|
| And codes no one could understand
|
| It was one for all and all for one
|
| Do, do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do
|
| In the summers of our innocence
|
| The world was small and still made sense
|
| But time flies and we just turned 31
|
| By the time that you turn 32
|
| Darkness starts to follow you
|
| But we won’t surrender like in that Springsteen song
|
| So with our guitars in our hand
|
| And codes that no one understands
|
| It’s still one for all and all for one
|
| Do, do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do, do
|
| Do, do, do, do |