In the summer and her pinafore
She thought she'd love for ever more
How soon things sour

Past the bewitching hour she finds
Herself in winter deep inside her coat
The past is just an anecdote
She can't forget for it's her alphabet of time

Will there be a war
Will she die or will she know?
And find the pain of youth still shows?

Like Mary Tyler-Moore
She stares across the yawning tide
Out of love and terrified

In the Sunday color magazine
She reads a line and then she dreams
Of what she'll do when she leaves you again

She knows that home
Was once a wild unknown
As always her own chaperon
Catch the bus from wilderness or to

Hold on tight, catch that bus
Fares please, ding ding ding