Minutes turn to hours, counting seconds tick away.
Another day tomorrow, tomorrow is just another day.
And days turn into years, and time goes by over and over, again and again.
Years turn into decades, decades start another decade, times ten.
Ten decades, one hundred years, ten decades.
And the first ten started going so much faster than the whole one hundred years before.
And the second ten we started fighting,
we fought the war to end all wars.
So somebody named the twenties roaring
And in the thirties we fought some more.
And the fighting went on and on nobody could stop it.
So somebody built a bomb, all you had to do was drop it.
Right or wrong they dropped it, they dropped it.
And toward the end of the forties, after the storm, I was born.
I am calling across a field from far away, far away.
This is my calling song.
I am worried I am concerned,
There are reasons can't be explained.
And there are questions that have no answers,
That's the reason I want to know,
How long, how long can this go on?
I want to know how long, how long?
When so many things happen, nothing gets done.
So many wars, no one ever won one, and no one ever will.
I am calling, this is my calling song.
And the fifties were the best I guess, except for the fighting.
And the sixties were unrest, protest, we went to the moon.
We had hopes, we had dreams,
And sometimes late at night it still seems like Camelot.
And the seventies lasted til May.
Up on the hill that day,
I gave up and started writing "Decades."
And the eighties were a waste of time,
And here we are in the nineties.
Nine in a row, one more to go.
Over and over, again and again,
One hundred years, ten years times ten.
So many things happened nothing got done.
So many wars, no one ever won one.
Decades, decades....
Another day tomorrow, tomorrow is just another day.
And days turn into years, and time goes by over and over, again and again.
Years turn into decades, decades start another decade, times ten.
Ten decades, one hundred years, ten decades.
And the first ten started going so much faster than the whole one hundred years before.
And the second ten we started fighting,
we fought the war to end all wars.
So somebody named the twenties roaring
And in the thirties we fought some more.
And the fighting went on and on nobody could stop it.
So somebody built a bomb, all you had to do was drop it.
Right or wrong they dropped it, they dropped it.
And toward the end of the forties, after the storm, I was born.
I am calling across a field from far away, far away.
This is my calling song.
I am worried I am concerned,
There are reasons can't be explained.
And there are questions that have no answers,
That's the reason I want to know,
How long, how long can this go on?
I want to know how long, how long?
When so many things happen, nothing gets done.
So many wars, no one ever won one, and no one ever will.
I am calling, this is my calling song.
And the fifties were the best I guess, except for the fighting.
And the sixties were unrest, protest, we went to the moon.
We had hopes, we had dreams,
And sometimes late at night it still seems like Camelot.
And the seventies lasted til May.
Up on the hill that day,
I gave up and started writing "Decades."
And the eighties were a waste of time,
And here we are in the nineties.
Nine in a row, one more to go.
Over and over, again and again,
One hundred years, ten years times ten.
So many things happened nothing got done.
So many wars, no one ever won one.
Decades, decades....