| Trees of green and golden line the northern road
|
| Farming land your father once worked
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| Is now all overgrown
|
| You were young and restless, growing up too fast
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| With heartaches full of questions inside,
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| But too afraid to ask
|
| You thought you could find yourself
|
| In someone else’s soul
|
| But time has its final take
|
| And finally takes its toll
|
| But you can’t change the water into stone,
|
| You’re only flesh and bone
|
| Your wishing well is welling up alone
|
| And love has a mind all of its own
|
| Builder of a broken home, broken home
|
| Rusted wire fences mark the county line
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| All the dreams you thought were out there
|
| Were only in your mind
|
| Oh how you wish you knew a way to understand
|
| You held on so tight to love it shattered in your hand
|
| But you can’t change the water into stone,
|
| You’re only flesh and bone
|
| Your wishing well is welling up alone
|
| And love has a mind all of its own
|
| Builder of a broken home, a broken home
|
| And life goes on, no matter what you think
|
| You might have done nothing wrong
|
| You thought you could find yourself
|
| In someone else’s soul
|
| But time has its final take
|
| And finally takes its toll
|
| And you can’t change the water into stone,
|
| You’re only flesh and bone
|
| Your wishing well is welling up alone
|
| And love has a mind all of its own
|
| Builder of a broken home
|
| You’re only flesh and bone
|
| Your wishing well is well enough alone
|
| And love has a mind all of its own
|
| The builder of a broken home, a broken home |