ever since a modern man made himself an iron hand i was trapped inside again trying to get out oh won t you take me to the hill put me in your coupe de ville tell me that you love me still we could get out of here oh life is a story won t you be my story girl your eyes are blue skies we could eat the tasty pieces of the peaches on the beaches tell me what would be such fun sitting in the garden sun and you could go and meet my mom we could sit there all day long tell me what would be so wrong oh so wrong with that oh life is a story won t you be my story girl your eyes are gold skies that shows them the sunrise and you saw nothing you made me so happy oh life is a story won t you be my story girl your eyes are bloodshot