In the summer of 68, fell in love with this girl. I didn't have all that much to say, my intentions, they were good. In 63, those wild and smoky years, I'm living with no fear of fading away. In 69, we married in the fall, always staying true to that peace and love. But in 72, I lost my job, with the baby on the way. And once a man that could fade away, had to be strong for a change. I said, in the summer of 68, fell in love with this girl. I didn't have all that much to say, my intentions, they were good. Ooh, ooh, ooh. In 79, I was working all the time. Was blinded by this life I was fighting for. In 83, we forgot in love and peace, and every single promise we couldn't keep. And in 89, she left me for this Robert St. Germain. He never loved her like I did, and I always tried to say. I said, in the summer of 68, fell in love with this girl. I didn't have all that much to say, my intentions, they were good. Ooh, ooh, ooh. On my last day, I was buried underneath, a cherry blossom tree at the top of the hill. And a woman dressed in black, her flowers blooming green. She stood there at the top of the hill, she only said one thing. In the summer of 68, fell in love with this boy. He didn't have all that much to say, his intentions, they were good. Oh, she was good, yeah.