Janis Ian That Grand Illusion
The gulls are crying. Missy can you hear them call? It was so easy then, When all our friends were small. How we used to like the old-time movies, The silent picture show. Where you make up your life, At the end of the night, As your reel-to-reels unfold.
Now I come here to score some satisfaction. Maybe some more of that old reaction. I'm a junkie for that grand illusion. Who's losing and who's just using.
I lost my virtue, Leading some double life, I fear. It was so easy then, When all our friends lived near. Now I'm left without an advertisement, To separate the marks and the shills, From these good-time blues, And two-toned shoes, That choose to give me the chills.
I come to score, or maybe more. Who's using, who am I losing?
The summer's fading, I can feel it go. It's slipping through my fingers, Like some broken radio. The sea gulls flying, Missy, can you hear them call? I remember you cried when the summer died, Though I wouldn't cry at all.
Da da da dum, La da da dum, La da da da da da la.
