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]