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This My Town
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Ninety-five degrees on the blacktop I hear it's cool on Mars Used to be a dirt path behind our house Now, just speeding European cars And it's too hot to play ball So we sit and watch the summer fade Ninety-five degrees on the blacktop Ninety-four in the shade Yeah, ninety-four in the shade Well, the heat was enormous It fell like a gorgeous Blanket of Indian clay And time, drifting over us Stagnant like thunderclouds Pregnant and heavy with rain This my town Ain't what it used to be Everything just seems so much smaller than it was This my town They're cutting down the tree where We carved out our love- I can hear the "buzz, buzz" Should have seen it coming back then


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