I long to be out yonder where the corn fields grow
To the places of my youth
Down in the valleys
Out in the streets and the cemetary
Pondering a past we never knew,
History is romantic in a way
Or I am just a sentimental fool
We sat on a fallen log over the rushing waters of the creek drinking wine
With friends, our friends, our crazy friends
Up all night discussing philosophy and figuring out what is wrong with world
When we were everything that was right
Happy just to bum a cigarette and pop a squat with an old timer
Drinking cheap Canadian whiskey
Chopping wood and poking at the fire
We had our fun alright
We knew how to live
