[Verse 1] Nineteen seventy-five, I turned five years old, Still thought forever was a hand I could hold. The next July the whole town dressed in red, white, and blue, But I was chasing lightning bugs like little kids do. Mom had a handful of shiny new change, A drummer boy where the eagle should've been. I reached to spend one on a popsicle stand— She smiled and closed my little hand. [Chorus] "Don't spend those," they said. "Someday they'll be worth something." I thought they meant dollars stacked in a jar. Turns out they were buying me a way back home, Fifty years from where we are. America's blowing out another candle tonight, And I still hear those quarters ring. Funny how history fits in the palm of your hand— And sounds like pocket change. [Verse 2] I've watched the paint peel off old front porch rails, Watched kids become parents telling the same old tales. The flags get folded, the fireworks fade, The years slip by without asking to be saved. But every now and then that silver song Comes rattling up from the bottom of a drawer. The country got fifty years older somehow... So did the little boy wanting one more. [Bridge] I'm old enough to remember remembering, Before memory knew what it was. Some things you keep because they're worth a fortune, Some things become one just because. [Final Chorus] "Don't spend those," they said. "Someday they'll be worth something." They never said what that something would be. Not a collector's price, not a headline's glow— Just a five-year-old still riding inside of me. America's two hundred fifty tonight, I'm grateful I was here to see How a country keeps counting birthdays... And a handful of quarters keeps counting me.
