Strawberry

Ten, ten years Ten years too young to die Too many times I tried to talk you still don't understand Too many times you tried to say I'm not your kind of man But still it's time for me to come, I really want to know Is it time for me to come, or time for me to go? Still, one is not allowed to imagine The preposterous recall of the dim flight into the [?] Sunday morning got to settle down Got to get my feet back on the ground Ten, ten years Ten years too young to die Ten, nine Eight, seven six, six, six Too many times you tried to talk I still don't understand Too many times you tried to say I'm not your kind of man But still it's time for me to come I really want to know Is it time for me to stay, or time for me to go? Still, one should be advised vehemently That the [?] flight is one into Hell Sunday Monday got to settle down Got to get my feet back on the ground Thursday Friday got nothing to show Got to be this month I just don't know Sunday Monday got to settle down Got to get my feet back on the ground Wednesday Thursday got nothing to show Why don't you tell me something I don't know? [spoken outro in Cherokee]