Verse Hungry boy with head hung down, shabby girl with shabby gown Should I know your faces? Yes, maybe. You have always been around Verse I’m a ghost in my home town, since they knocked that dancehall down High in summer once I knew some girls, they are married with kids now Chorus Friday morning farmer burn the corn saw the dreaming fields aflame Goodbye dreaming fields Verse Broken doll you were not made for this tawdry serenade Nor your poor tin soldier rusting now since it rained on your parade Should your ragged marching band ever dance across this land Don’t forget to wave at your poor old dad in his castle made of sand Outro Friday morning farmer burn the corn saw the dreaming fields aflame Goodbye dreaming fields Goodbye dreaming fields Goodbye dreaming fields