Olden streets, dirty scenes (?) I know you feel like we can go inside We can talk in private here Tell me now of how they used to be But I'm not crazy I'm just a little boy And you're not crazy you're just a little girl We can find an old boxcar In the woods to make our home We can make a broom of weeds And brush and sweep daddi's away If we went back to being small We could find a place and raise ourselves You'd be ill with so much guilt But we'd presume that they got better now But I'm not crazy I'm just a little boy And you're not crazy you're just a little girl We can find an old boxcar In the woods to make our home Make a bed of maple leaves Sleep with doves on the door On the sill what we need Keep our milk in the stream We can make a broom of weeds And brush and sweep daddi's away