Long Island Sound

New Mexico’s lost in the back streets of Austin

Carolina keeps all her thoughts to herself

Tennessee’s tight and he will not stop talking

Somebody shush him ‘fore I have to myself

I wrote that verse for the kids but I never did sing it

I filed it away and forgot it in time

My old guitar sits in the back bedroom closet

Next to the closet the shotgun I got when I was nine

If I had any sense I’d be way ‘cross the Whitestone

I might as well sit here a while ‘fore I start

Cause when the 5:30 rush hits the cross-island parkway

It’s not for the squeamish of the gentle of heart

I’d be stuck on the bridge in the right land at sunset

Watching the boats with their snowy white sails

Watching the sun sinking over the projects

Laundry hung out of the balcony rails

And where are you now my long secret love

Where have you gone in your glamorous life

Where are you now as the moon comes a-rising

Are you somebody’s love, are you somebody’s wife

And these are the best days

These are the best days

Y’all put your money away

I’ve got the round

Here’s to all you strangers

The Mets and the Rangers

Long may we thrive on the Long Island Sound

I don’t know what goes on in those crumbling brick buildings

They’re on the same planet in a whole ‘nother world

I got a bay boat and a 401k

Two cars in the driveway, two boys and a girl

It doesn’t seem long since we came up from Tulsa

Been here six years and I reckon we’ll stay

The company’s not bad as the companies go

They still got the health plan and they’re raising my pay

And the kids all play soccer like nobody’s business

My grandma says we’re just letting ‘em fall through

They don’t go to church and we’re not gonna make ‘em

They all drop their R’s like the Islanders do

And these are the best days

These are the best days

Y’all put your money away

I’ve got the round

Here’s to all you strangers

The Mets and the Rangers

Long may we thrive on the Long Island Sound

I remember her singing from that dusty old hymnal

Smelled like tobacco from granddaddy’s pipe

That old rugged cross ’til she took down the shingles

You’ve never heard such a noise in your life

I had a tire run low so I dug through the glovebox

I needed the manual to locate the jack

Found a couple old picks and a 20 gauge shuttle

Left from a dove hunt a couple years back

And these are the best days

These are the best days

Y’all put your money away

I’ve got the round

Here’s to all you strangers

The Mets and the Rangers

Long may we thrive on the Long Island Sound

New Mexico’s lost in the back streets of Austin

Carolina keeps all her thoughts to herself