El Dorado

El Dorado There’s a field quite near your Mother’s house Where we once made love The wind inside each other’s mouth, the sky above Now there’s a winter’s worth of washing piled at the top of the stairs Each night I lie right next to you and can’t recall your hair They say a love grown old is like silver and gold Baby take my hand and we’ll walk the streets of El Dorado Do you recall that bar on Knight’s Mill Road? And that strange jukebox We’d dance all night to old Hank Snow Then we’d drive home drunk. Now a baby’s cryin’ in the dark and the house is cold The air is thick with some harsh remark ‘bout a love grown cold. They say a love grown old is like silver and gold Baby take my hand and we’ll walk the streets of El Dorado We wanted it wild; we wanted it rough We wanted to force God’s hand, then call His bluff. I said, “Let ‘em all talk.” You said, “This town’ll talk.” But we walked like we walked and we bought what we bought and we paid for it all. They say a love grown old is like silver and gold Baby take my hand and we’ll walk the streets of El Dorado