I've got a brand new song here, and I wrote it just a day or so ago. I hope I can remember the words. If I forget a few of them, I hope you'll forgive me. I hope you won't make me do it over. But it goes like this. A long, long time ago, I can still remember how that music used to make me smile. But I knew if I had my chance, I could make those people dance. Maybe they'd be happy for a while. But February made me shiver with every paper I'd deliver, bad news on the doorstep. I couldn't take one more step. I can't remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride. Something touched me deep inside the day the music died. Sing it with me. So bye-bye, Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye. Singing, this'll be the day that I die. A little louder. This'll be the day that I die. Did you write the book of love? Do you have faith in God above if the Bible tells you so? Now, do you believe in rock and roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And can you teach me how to dance real slow? Well, I know that you're in love with him. Because while you're dancing in the gym, you both kicked off your shoes. And it goes rhythm and blues. It's a lonely teenage rocking bus with a pink carnation and a pickup truck. But I knew I was out of luck the day the music died. Here we go. Started singing, bye-bye, Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. Good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye. Singing, this'll be the day that I die. This'll be the day that I die. Now, for 10 years, we've been on our own. Moss grows fat on a rolling stone. That's not how it used to be. Why, when the jester sang for the king and queen in a coat he borrowed from James Dean and a voice that came from you and me. Oh, and while the king was looking down, the jester stole his thorny crown. Courtroom was adjourned. No music was returned. And while Lenin read a book on Marx, a quartet practiced in the park, we sang dirges in the dark of the day. The music died. We were singing, bye-bye, Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. Good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye. Singing, this'll be the day that I die. This'll be the day that I die. Skelter, skelter, in the summer swelter, the birds flew off with a fallout shell. Eight miles high and pulling fast, they landed foul on the grass. Players tried for a forward pass with a jester on the sidelines in a cast. Now the halftime air was sweet perfume while the sergeants played their marching tune. We all got up to dance. We never got the chance. The players tried to take the field. The marching band refused to yield. Do you recall what was revealed today? The music died. We were singing, bye-bye, Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. Good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye. Singing, this'll be the day that I die. This'll be the day that I die. Oh, yeah, we were all in one place. A generation lost in space with no time left to start again. So come on, Jack, be nimble. Jack, be quick. Jack Flash sat on his candlestick, love. Fire is the devil's only friend. Oh, and as I watched him on the stage, my hands were clenched in fists of rage. No angel born in hell could break that Satan's spell. And the flames climbed high into the night to light the sacrificial rite. I saw Satan laughing with delight the day the music died. We were singing, bye-bye, Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye. Singing, this'll be the day that I die. This'll be the day that I die. Well, I met a girl who sang the blues. And I asked her for some happy news. But she just smiled and turned away. And I went down to the sacred store where I'd heard the music years before. But the man there said the music wouldn't play. In the streets, the children screamed. The lovers cried and the poets dreamed. But not a word was spoken. The church bells all were broken. And the three men I admire most, the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost, they caught the last train for the coast the day the music died. They were singing, bye-bye, Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye. Singing, this'll be the day that I die. This'll be the day that I die. Good night, everybody. They were singing, bye-bye, Miss American Pie. Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry. Them good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye. Singing, this'll be the day that I die. I die. Thank you! Everybody up on stage. This is a beautiful night for me. Thank you. I'll never forget it.