39 of the Mid 60s'

Opposite poles drifting apart, Trying hard to defend separation, Opposite poles, playing cards, Losing the game of kings and bows. When all they did was wait to paint the streets brown, She sat there singing the song of rains and the clown, That would come and go like the winter bills, Swinging and tingling as the wind blew whistles, Reminding her of the end for her son to begin, On a new road of pebbles and shoes, Where he would buy and trade all the conscience within, To build a town of the glass and blues, Lying dreamily on the table in downtown, Singing the song of the rains and the clown, That played cards and drifted apart in rows, Losing the game of kings and bows.