No Montage - '68

My hands are weak

They’re a soldier with no war

Good fathers are hard to hold

Once they are gone

It’s the hardest time

That I’ve ever known

I love you all, but wise men say;

«That violent roads we make.»

That’s not the end

Make it our own

Long, long way down

Long, long way to go

Now close all your eyes

The future so bright

But they’ve sold all their youth

For fame

But I can’t recall their names

Never!

And that’s not the end

Make it our own

Long, long way down

Long, long way to go

It’s something to hold

Something to fight

Something to sho-o-o-ow

Oh-oh-oh, ahh