by Peter Tork & Diane HilderbrandA lone carnival voiceSings tunes of nobody's choice,And on a vacant lot,Some one just forgot,Standing all alone,Turning on its own.Weary, merry go round,Grows slowly into the ground,And faded circus acts,Sorrow broke their backs,And their sadness criesFrom their staring eyes.Still small children comeAnd bring your harm of play,Spirits all aliveTo drive the ghosts away.Useless merry go round,Tomorrow they'll tear you down,To build the parking lotIf it lives or not,It was just a toy,All it brought was joy.

 

back to top