Lyrics Long Island Sound - James McMurtry

New Mexico's lost on the back streets of Austin
Carolina keeps all her thoughts to herself
Tennessee's tight and he will not stop talking
Somebody shush him before I have to myself

Wrote that verse for the kids but I never did sing it
I filed it away and forgot it in time
My old guitar sits in the back bedroom closet
Next to the shotgun I got when I was nine

If I had any sense I'd be way cross the Whitestone
I might as well as sit here a while before I start
'Cause when the 5:30 rush hits the Cross Island Parkway
It's not for the squeamish or the gentle of heart

I'd be stuck on the bridge in the right lane at sunset
Watching the boats with their snowy white sails
Watching the sun sinking over the projects
Laundry hung out off the balcony rails

And where are you now my long secret love
Where have you gone in your glamorous life
Where are you now as the moon comes a rising
Are you somebody's love are you somebody's wife

These are the best days these are the best days
Y'all put your money away I got the round
Here's to all you strangers, the Mets and the Rangers
Long may we thrive on the Long Island Sound

I don't know what goes on in those crumbling brick buildings
They're on the same planet in a whole other world
I've got a bay boat and a 401K
Two cars in the driveway two boys and a girl

It doesn't seem like that long since we came up from Tulsa
Been here six years and I reckon we'll stay
The company's not bad as the companies go
They've still got the health plan and they're raising my pay

And the kids all play soccer like nobody's business
My grandmother says we're just letting them fall through
They don't go to church and we're not gonna make 'em
They all drop their Rs like the islanders do

These are the best days these are the best days
Y'all put your money away I got the round
Here's to all you strangers, the Mets and the Rangers
Long may we thrive on the Long Island Sound

I remember her singing from that dusty old hymnal
Smelled like tobacco from grandaddy's pipe
That old rugged cross until she shook down the shingles
You never heard such a noise in your life

I had a tire run low so I dug through the glove box
I needed the manual to locate the jack
I found a couple old picks and a 20-gauge shot shell
Left from a dove hunt a couple years back

These are the best days these are the best days
Y'all put your money away I got the round
Here's to all you strangers, the Mets and the Rangers
Long may we thrive on the Long Island Sound
Long may we thrive on the Long Island Sound

New Mexico's lost on the back streets of Austin
Carolina keeps all her thoughts to herself