When I was a young man, barely sixteen, you were my pretty thing in pink shirt, blue jeans.You always told me, you wanted the world. You could have never been, just one of the good.Now I'm a grown man, the years passed us by. I still remember, sometimes I cry.I hear about you, still while I step free. You wanted the world, once the world was free.Don't look, stay away. If you see me, I'll walk away.One hundred flowers, for love that's alive. One Preston pride, for love that died.*
