baby you think i chose this waynna cold dark face for the end daysnnbut i even gave you my Plymouth carnnfor you i remain unarmednnnnis this the kind of love that forms in free states?nnlike old Impressions songs...nnnnbaby we've got our fathers namesnnand hearts that move against free tradennin worn out shoes to barricadesnna downtown street across the facennnnchorus, harmonicannnnthe movement loves you! x2