A man by the name of Billy Maxwell loads a gun.
He's gonna take a walk through Central Park
And take out everyone.
He thinks it's gonna make him famous,
Gonna make him a star, so he
Put the gun in his car.

For fourteen long and winding miles,
He remembered days gone by.
His father left, his mother died,
And years of getting high...
Each had a role in his decision
To take this drive today.
He thinks it will take the pain away.

And he says, "Oh, I'm just thinkin' about tomorrow.
Oh, I'm thinkin' about the places
That I've always wanted to go.
I'm just thinkin' about tomorrow.
My life will be complete
From my head down to my feet,
I will be whole."
Oh...

He puts the car in park and then he reaches for his gun.
He sees the mothers and the daughters play
With the fathers and the sons.
He puts the gun inside his coat and opens up the door
Like he's...
Goin' off to war.

He shuts the door behind him
And then strolls into the crowd,
Pulls out a loaded .45 and shoots a young boy down.
People scream, and run away,
And a man cries, "Why'd you shoot my son?"
And Billy raises up his gun...

And he said, "Oh, I'm just thinkin' about tomorrow.
Oh, I'm thinkin' about the places
That I've always wanted to go.
I'm just thinkin' about tomorrow.
My life will be complete
From my head down to my feet,
I will be whole."
Oh...

A shot rings out through the crowd,
And Billy stumbles to his knees.
A policeman with another gun
Is the very last thing he sees.
He collapses to the cold, hard ground
On that bright and sunny day, and then...
Then his pain went away.

The next day, the headline read,
"Man Shoots Boy With .45...
The assailant, he was shot to death,
But the youngster will survive.
And no one knows why this man
Has done this cat of shame, and...
No one knew his name."

But he said, "Oh, I'm just thinkin' about tomorrow.
Oh, I'm thinkin' about the places
That I've always wanted to go.
I'm just thinkin' about tomorrow.
My life will be complete
When they put me down six feet...
When they put me down six feet
Into a hole..."
Oh...
Oh...
Oh...

© 1989 By: Scott Douglas Sanford