| This is a true story. |
| I grew up on a ranch in California with a tree house in
|
| the front pasture and geese and goats everywhere. |
| This is for the sibs.
|
| There are six of us and back then… that was enough for a tag football team.
|
| Life truly was simple then
|
| I can remember when the sky was so blue
|
| We played cowboys and Indians and can you catch the moon
|
| Girl-clubs in the tree-house and the boys they had to stay out
|
| Wondering what we were doing up there all afternoon
|
| Those were the days when life was a little simpler
|
| Those were the days we didn’t have much to say
|
| Those were the days when we looked so forward to winter
|
| And April flowers and the summer rain
|
| We had geese on the front porch and we had goats in the backyard
|
| Daddy was always bringing home a lost soul to free
|
| It’s funny what you remember in a house made of timber
|
| Six hungry wide-eyed mouths to feed
|
| There’s no place like home
|
| Oh, we had nothing fancy
|
| Just welfare and community
|
| And stray dogs we loved and buried in the backyard
|
| Oh, there’s no place like home
|
| It’s a song if there’s a melody
|
| Survival, if no harmony
|
| It’s a choice to make a symphony out of anything at all
|
| I can remember when the sky was so blue
|
| But growing up, it changes, all the things we have to do
|
| I’m thankful for the memories no matter where they take me
|
| And it’s always just a little bittersweet too
|
| Those were the days the sky was so blue
|
| Oh, those were the days that I remember You |