The Edge of This Town

I've gambled my younger years
with the gypsies and those dime store dears
I've lost more than I ever feared
I look up and those years are gone
Facing the music with a handful of wires
Singing for dreamers and habitual liers,
My choice and my desire and I won't change a thing

Chorus
Around the fires
I'm holding tight to my ground
Out here on the edge of this town

Following wild and untamed rivers, still searching
Of a deep blue sea,
Superhighways and dead end streets
They've all looked good to me

Chorus

We try and we try to reach the top
Of a mountain made of solid rock
My heart keeps saying don't stop
And I won't, It's all I've got

Chorus

© 2000 Burt Street Music(BMI)
Words and music by Michael Veitch
14 Oriole Drive, Woodstock, NY 12498 (845)679-1108
MVEITCH@aol.com