And in the end I
Stand here poised to cry
She spins over and by
I catch in fields of rye
Please make up your mind
I still can't decide
What good is this life
Phonies cast it aside
Horse paint fades to white
I let out a sigh
They won't listen - why?
I catch in fields of rye
Please make up your mind
I still can't decide
What good is this life
Phonies cast it aside