New Haven Green - Goldspot

It was September in the '70s

Three of us flying in two seats

Holding the statues of sandalwood

The airport is filled with the neighborhood

In the back of an old white ambassador

You turn a deaf ear to your father

He gave you a grand from the black market

It stayed in the glove

You would not take it

So why the words on napkins for no one to read?

It’s never been black or white

Or what we thought it would be

You carry the cases

She carries me

Tell the eight-dollar story again

Tell the eight-dollar story again

An officer in blue, he welcomed you

Gave you the key to your living room

You took up the last carry-on

And laid out on jackets on the floor

So why the words on napkins for no one to read?

It’s never been black or white

Or what we thought it would be

You carry the cases

She carries me

Tell the eight-dollar story again

Tell the eight-dollar story again

Can we go back to the New Haven Green?

Two of you turning into three

We’ll read all the letters you never sent

And make the old places new again

So why the words on napkins for no one to read?

It’s never been black or white

Or what we thought it would be

You carry the cases

She carries me

Tell the eight-dollar story

Tell the eight-dollar story

Tell me the story again