In days of peace --

sweet smelling summer nights

of wine and song;

dusty pavements burning feet.

Why am I crying, I want to know.

How can I smile and make it right?

For sixty days and eighty nights

and not give in and lose the fight.



I'm going back to the ones that I know,

with whom I can be what I want to be.

Just one week for the feeling to go --

and with you there to help me

then it probably will.



I won't go down

acting the same old play.

Give sixty days for just one night.

Don't think I'd make it: but then I might.



I'm going back to the ones that I know,

with whom I can be what I want to be.

Just one week for the feeling to go --

and with you there to help me

then it probably will.