I was driving down the highway
Where I spend half my life
When I saw another scene
That always cuts me like a knife..
Some flowers, wreaths and crosses
Laid out for the deceased
And a note from his pretty girlfriend
Saying, Johnny, rest in peace..
He won't be playing football now,
Nobody will keep score...
And next year there will be sixty thousand more.
He had just looked down for a moment
To find something he had lost
Never guessing that that moment
Would have such a cost.
The road ahead was curving
And the sun was on the rise
Right above the tree line
It caught him in the eyes.
Right here in America
You want to know what lies in store...
...Next year there will be sixty thousand more.
His dad was washing dishes
In the kitchen all alone
When he heard the ringing
And he picked up the phone
It was a policeman.
He said: – I have some awful news
I'll see you at the funeral
I'll be with you in the pews.
He hung up the telephone
And crumpled to the floor...
And next year there will be sixty thousand more.
It's the world that we live in
All covered up with tar
Spending half our lives
Behind the wheel of a car
So roll your dice, America
And gamble on your fate
You can start the engine
But you can't pick the date.
It's not a plague, it's not a famine
And they say it's not a war...
But next year there will be sixty thousand more.
Where I spend half my life
When I saw another scene
That always cuts me like a knife..
Some flowers, wreaths and crosses
Laid out for the deceased
And a note from his pretty girlfriend
Saying, Johnny, rest in peace..
He won't be playing football now,
Nobody will keep score...
And next year there will be sixty thousand more.
He had just looked down for a moment
To find something he had lost
Never guessing that that moment
Would have such a cost.
The road ahead was curving
And the sun was on the rise
Right above the tree line
It caught him in the eyes.
Right here in America
You want to know what lies in store...
...Next year there will be sixty thousand more.
His dad was washing dishes
In the kitchen all alone
When he heard the ringing
And he picked up the phone
It was a policeman.
He said: – I have some awful news
I'll see you at the funeral
I'll be with you in the pews.
He hung up the telephone
And crumpled to the floor...
And next year there will be sixty thousand more.
It's the world that we live in
All covered up with tar
Spending half our lives
Behind the wheel of a car
So roll your dice, America
And gamble on your fate
You can start the engine
But you can't pick the date.
It's not a plague, it's not a famine
And they say it's not a war...
But next year there will be sixty thousand more.
inviata da giorgio - 31/5/2010 - 12:42
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Lyrics & Music by David Rovics
Album: Beyond The Mall