1975

I woke up to greeting cards
From people I don’t know no more
I woke up to blue above
And blue below these wooden floors
This kind of thing, it can’t be told
This kind of thing, it won’t be done
I drove home on interstate
Wishing I had learnt to fly
She’s my Canadian girl
On the fifth day of July
This kind of thing, it can’t be told
This kind of thing, it won’t be done
When she said time and time again
I wouldn’t be alive
If it wasn’t for the summer of 1975
And it’ll never be
It’ll never be the same
And everyone gets a moment when
It’ll never be the same again
Someday I’ll write down
If it’s okay, I won’t change the names
I don’t know how the story ends
But I know that it began this way
And this kind of thing, it can’t be told
This kind of thing, it won’t be done
When she said time and time again
I wouldn’t be alive
If it wasn’t for the summer of 1975
And it’ll never be
It’ll never be the same
And everyone gets a moment when
It’ll never be the same again
This kind of love, it can’t be told
This kind of love, it won’t be done
It’ll never be
It’ll never be the same
It’ll never be the same again
It’ll never be
It’ll never be the same
And everyone gets a moment when
It’ll never be the same again
When she said time and time again
I wouldn’t be alive
If it wasn’t for the summer of 1975