� In the summer of 68, fell in love with this girl. I didn't have all that much to say, my intentions, they were good. � In 63, those wild and smoky years, I'm living with no fear of fading away. � In 69, we married in the fall, always staying true to that peace and love. � But in 72, I lost my job, with the baby on the way. And once a man that could fade away, had to be strong for a change. � I said, in the summer of 68, fell in love with this girl. I didn't have all that much to say, my intentions, they were good. � Ooh, ooh, ooh. � In 79, I was working all the time. Was blinded by this life I was fighting for. � In 83, we forgot in love and peace, and every single promise we couldn't keep. � And in 89, she left me for this Robert St. Germain. He never loved her like I did, and I always tried to say. � I said, in the summer of 68, fell in love with this girl. I didn't have all that much to say, my intentions, they were good. � Ooh, ooh, ooh. � � On my last day, I was buried underneath, a cherry blossom tree at the top of the hill. � And a woman dressed in black, her flowers blooming green. She stood there at the top of the hill, she only said one thing. � � In the summer of 68, fell in love with this boy. He didn't have all that much to say, his intentions, they were good. Oh, she was good, yeah. �