Nanci Griffith - Roses On The 4th Of July

"He still sends her roses on the 4th of July.
They're always white roses, she's never asked why.
She still doesn't know where he goes, Thursday nights.
But his wedding band rests,
On their bedside that night.

He was a soldier in the Vietnam war.
He lost half his right leg whilst daydreaming of her.
She lit a candle each holy hour he was gone.
""You Were On My Mind""
Was their favorite song.

Love is a mystery, from birth 'til we die.
It's cross words of a morning, by evening entwined.
It's all that we dream of, sometimes it's not right.
Love is white roses,
And you never ask why.

He's the hands of a draughtsman, he's built a good life,
She works for a season during IRS time.
Two children they've had though their boy has now died.
When they wake of each morning,
He is still on their minds.

Their friends would all tell you they're like day and night,
Their daughter's an actress, she is strong and she's bright.
He meets with his pals from the war Thursday nights,
She still treasures those roses,
Every 4th of July

Love is a mystery, from birth 'til we die.
It's cross words of a morning, by evening entwined.
It's all that we dream of, sometimes it's not right.
Love is white roses,
And you never ask why.

Love is white roses, (Love is white roses.)
Every 4th of July.

"
"He still sends her roses on the 4th of July.
They're always white roses, she's never asked why.
She still doesn't know where he goes, Thursday nights.
But his wedding band rests,
On their bedside that night.

He was a soldier in the Vietnam war.
He lost half his right leg whilst daydreaming of her.
She lit a candle each holy hour he was gone.
""You Were On My Mind""
Was their favorite song.

Love is a mystery, from birth 'til we die.
It's cross words of a morning, by evening entwined.
It's all that we dream of, sometimes it's not right.
Love is white roses,
And you never ask why.

He's the hands of a draughtsman, he's built a good life,
She works for a season during IRS time.
Two children they've had though their boy has now died.
When they wake of each morning,
He is still on their minds.

Their friends would all tell you they're like day and night,
Their daughter's an actress, she is strong and she's bright.
He meets with his pals from the war Thursday nights,
She still treasures those roses,
Every 4th of July

Love is a mystery, from birth 'til we die.
It's cross words of a morning, by evening entwined.
It's all that we dream of, sometimes it's not right.
Love is white roses,
And you never ask why.

Love is white roses, (Love is white roses.)
Every 4th of July.

"
Roses On The 4th Of July

Provided to YouTube by Warner Music Group Roses On The 4th Of July · Nanci Griffith Clock Without Hands ℗ 2001 Elektra Entertainment Group Inc. for the United States and WEA International...

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Nanci Griffith

Nanci Griffith