Thirty More Years - Steve Forbert

A little girl is standing at your door on Halloween

The face of expectation

And of trust in everything;

A little boy has thrown some heavy stones into a pond

Dusting off his hands

He’s feeling proud of what he’s done

The geocentric days are gone and Earth is still a sphere

Objects in the mirror may be just as they appear

We spin around the sun and call each trip we make a year

Thirty more years of this and, people, I am out of here

Out of here (here)

(Here)

The trees turn into buildings

And the weeks turn into months

It’s one thing or another

Or it’s everything at once;

There’s two sides to each story, yes

And sometimes many more

And four bananas make a bunch

And two times ten’s a score

The geocentric days are gone and Earth is still a sphere

Objects in the mirror may be just as they appear

We spin around the sun and call each trip we make a year

Thirty more years of this and, people, I am out of here

Out of here (here)

(Here)

If we weren’t in so much trouble

I would say that things were fine

And smile as I went walking

And just wave on down the line;

If there weren’t so many problems

I would say that it’s okay

And smile as I went walking

And just wave on down the way

Mothers hate war more in general than Joint Chiefs of Staff

Battleground statistics don’t add up in schoolhouse math;

The male of this here species lives for eighty years or so

Starts to see the mess he’s made

And then it’s time to go

The geocentric days are gone and Earth is still a sphere

Objects in the mirror may be just as they appear

We spin around the sun and call each trip we make a year

Thirty more years of this and, people, I am out of here

Out of here (here)

(Here)

It’s often said that life is strange, but, hey, compared to what?

I asked this question years ago, it’s still worth asking, but

It all seems stranger now, I think, but that could be just me

And I’ve no all-time gauge of strange for objectivity

The geocentric days are gone and Earth is still a sphere

Objects in the mirror may be just as they appear

We spin around the sun and call each trip we make a year

Thirty more years of this and, people, I am out of here

Out of here (here)

Out of here (here)

Out of here (here)

Out of here (here)