Postcards

Everybody’s waving
The whole town is out
A man on a bicycle
Is passing me out
I live in a small house
Just a mile from the bridge
On a clear day
You might say
What a beautiful view
Easter parades, old pictures that fade
And postcards that come
From far away
Everybody’s leaving
With a smile and a wave
They say
We’ll give it a year or two
But nobody stays
I live in a small house
But there’s plenty of room
So if you should call by
There’ll be dinner for two
Easter parades, old pictures that fade
And postcards that come
From far away