In June, we’re washing in the water,
we are walking to the sand.
In the summer of a hard year,
you are swinging both our hands,
in Rhode Island. Rhode Island.
Now we will go gleaming into tomorrow.
I am leaning, leaning into tomorrow,
from Rhode Island, cradled on the waves.
I don’t want to tell you sad news,
I don’t want to let you down.
We drive away, (we don’t know
what is going to happen now),
from Rhode Island. Rhode Island.
Now we will go gleaming into tomorrow.
I am leaning, leaning into tomorrow,
from Rhode Island, cradled on the waves. |