Sixty-eight at twenty-one

The girl has risen with the sun

It's a white paint morning now that the fog is gone



It's a bright, dumbfounded dawn

She lays down out on the lawn

And the new day wakes and turns to confront the clock



And down, the little town

All squared away

Don't it make you want to cry all day?

And gone, washed by the wind

Crushed by the clouds

It's where the land end and the day begins