"Dear Mary, I finally made it. The streets aren't paved with gold, but with hard work and faith, anything's possible here..." Found your letters in a box today Yellowed paper, 1958 Every page just filled with hope Like a movie from a different time When you crossed the ocean alone With nothing but belief inside Your words feel like fiction now Everything you built is falling down Your words feel like fiction now And I don't know what to tell you The factory where you worked back then Is just a parking lot again The neighbors moved away last spring Couldn't make the payments anymore I drive around these empty streets Looking for what you believed in Your words feel like fiction now Everything you built is falling down Your words feel like fiction now And I don't know what to tell you Oh-way-oh, oh-way-oh (La la la la, la la la) Oh-way-oh, oh-way-oh Getting harder to breathe I wish I could see it through your eyes When everything seemed new and right But the promise slipped away so slow Now your grandson's selling off his home And all those dreams you wrote about Feel like dust upon these roads Your words feel like fiction now Everything you built is falling down Your words feel like fiction now And I can't bear to tell you Oh-way-oh, oh-way-oh (La la la la, la la la) Oh-way-oh, oh-way-oh Getting harder to breathe
