The Parade

I went down to the parade
 The streets were closed and everybody huddled to the barriers
 Hoping for a better view, waiting for the floats to come through
 And leave a trail of confetti in their wake
 Oh, on a thousand roads
 We are coming home
 Yellow streamers on the ground
 And blue balloons are floating overhead like restless satellites
 Focused on the concrete, and straying down the side streets
 At the mercy of the temperamental breeze
 Oh, on a thousand roads
 We are coming home
 Old familiar roads
 We are coming home
 Every face was to the sky
 A small town on a summer day to waste away with no better plan
 Than to sit and watch a stray balloon, if only for an afternoon
 And then continue on their way, another day
 Oh, on a thousand roads
 We are coming home
 Old familiar roads
 We are coming home