Aimee Mann

Fifty years after the fair
The picture I have is so clear
Underneath the clouds in the air
Rose the tyrlon and the perisphere
And that for me was the finest of scenes
That perfect world across the river in queens
Fifty years after the fair
I drink from a different cup
But it does no good to compare
cause nothing ever measures up
I guess just for a second we thought
That all good things would rise to the top
But how beautiful it was - tomorrow
Well never have a day of sorrow
We got through the 30s, but our belts were tight
We conceived of a future with no hope in sight