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Long long time ago, I can still remember, |
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How that music used to make me smile; |
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And I knew if I had my chance, |
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That I could make those people dance, |
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And maybe they'd be happy for a while; |
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But February made me shiver, |
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With every paper I'd deliver, |
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Bad news on the doorstep, |
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I couldn't walk one more step; |
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I can't remember if I cried, |
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When I read about his widowed bride, |
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But something touched me deep inside, |
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The day the music died; |
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So bye-bye, Miss American Pie, |
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Drove my Chevy to the levee, |
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But the levee was dry, |
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Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye, |
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Singing this will be the day that I die, |
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This will be the day that I die; |
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Did you write the Book of Love, |
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And do you have faith in God above, |
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If the Bible tells you so, |
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Do you believe in rock 'n roll, |
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Can music save your mortal soul, |
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And can you teach me how to dance real slow? |
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And I know that you're in love with him, |
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'Cause I saw you dancing in the gym, |
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You both kicked off your shoes, |
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And I dig those rhythm and blues, |
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I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck, |
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With a pink carnation and a pickup truck, |
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But I knew I was out of luck, |
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The day the music died; I started singing... |
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Bye-bye, Miss American Pie, |
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Drove my Chevy to the levee, |
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But the levee was dry, |
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Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye, |
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Singing this will be the day that I die, |
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This will be the day that I die; |
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Now for ten years we've been on our own, |
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And moss grows fat on a rolling stone, |
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But that's not how it used to be, |
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When the jester sang for the King and Queen, |
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In a coat he borrowed from James Dean, |
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And a voice that came from you and me; |
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Ah but while the King was looking down, |
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The jester stole his thorny crown, |
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The courtroom was adjourned, |
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No verdict was returned, |
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And Lenin read from the book of Marx, |
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A Quartet practiced in the park, |
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And we sang dirges in the dark, |
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The day the music died; We were singing... |
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Bye-bye, Miss American Pie, |
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Drove my Chevy to the levee, |
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But the levee was dry, |
|
Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye, |
|
Singing this will be the day that I die, |
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This will be the day that I die; |
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Bye-bye, Miss American Pie, |
|
Drove my Chevy to the levee, |
|
But the levee was dry, |
|
Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye, |
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Singing this will be the day that I die, |
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This will be the day that I die. |
