The Parade

I went down to the parade

The streets were closed and everybody huddled to the barriers

Hoping for a better view, waiting for the floats to come through

And leave a trail of confetti in their wake

Oh, on a thousand roads

We are coming home

Yellow streamers on the ground

And blue balloons are floating overhead like restless satellites

Focused on the concrete, and straying down the side streets

At the mercy of the temperamental breeze

Oh, on a thousand roads

We are coming home

Old familiar roads

We are coming home

Every face was to the sky

A small town on a summer day to waste away with no better plan

Than to sit and watch a stray balloon, if only for an afternoon

And then continue on their way, another day

Oh, on a thousand roads

We are coming home

Old familiar roads

We are coming home