Automobile - 3

Creeping down on Franklin Street

Bare feet on cold concrete

Walking to the corner stone

Where she recalls her own world war

She can hear the automobile

Driving in the frozen rain

Headed for the memory of all these people

Gathered on a hill

Oh I think they stand there still

Waiting for someone to carry them home

And they always will

She got in the automobile

Driving to the place where the bombs went off

Teacher says you ought to look down

But you’re looking out

At all the fire’s turned to ash

Songs have burned like paper trash

The flames that ate the phonograph

Are nipping at you now

Drifting in a dreamless sleep

Curled up on a cold car seat

Startled by an earthquake sound

She wakes to watch the moon fall down

She got in the automobile

Driving in the frozen rain

Headed for the memory of all these people

Gathered on a hill

I think they stand there still

Waiting for someone to carry them home

And they always will

She got in the automobile

Driving to the place where the bombs went off

Teacher says you ought to look down

But you’re looking out

At all the fire’s turned to ash

Songs have burned like paper trash

The flames that ate the phonograph

Are nipping at you now

She got in the automobile

Driving to the place where the bombs went off

Teacher says you ought to look down

But you’re looking out

At all the fire’s turned to ash

Songs have burned like paper trash

The flames that ate the phonograph

Are nipping at you now

She got in the automobile

Driving to the place where the bombs went off

Teacher says you ought to look down

But you’re looking out

At all the fire’s turned to ash

Songs have burned like paper trash

The flames that ate the phonograph

Are nipping at you now