Springfield
On the way to Springfield,to see a Harvest Fair,On my motorcycle,Wind blowing through our hair.Together like a spoon,Silk arms around my waist,Gliding on the wind,that stings my hands and face.It's early in the morning,The sun's about to rise,Mockingbirds are singing,Winging in the sky.A flock of geese above us,form a perfect V on high,and HONK like morning traffic,as they SADLY cry Good Bye.We're in the mood for Love,lus...