The whole day long an old sweet song keeps Dorchester on my mind. It's a song as old as the ocean, blowing in the breeze.
In Dorchester, arms reach out to me and eyes wink tenderly. In peaceful dreams I see sweet, Dorchester; that sweet, sweet Dorchester that whispers seductively through the trees that line the streets. In the parks after dark there's a melody that's more rhapsody than threnody. Dorchester is that part of Boston that is home to sweet, contented joys.
Oh, Dorchester! Dorchester... I've walked all over Boston and still no peace do I find. The wind blows like an old song and the wind brings Dorchester back to my mind. It's a sentimental feeling that leaves me kind of blue. The song the wind breathes, though, reminds me that all roads lead to you. Be it zephyr or bluster, caress or gust, the light touch of air reminds me I've got to reach Dorchester or bust.
The T may be running late but my heart has no room for hate. I'm in a Dorchester state of mind... a honeyed, nostalgic, sleepy-eyed, fuzzy and snuggly Dorchester state of mind. Oh my. I'm in a perfect Dorchester, ADORE-chester, more-better-Dorchester state of mind. Ah, yes.
Pianists tickle ivories. Dorchester tickles fancies. Footloose without preconceptions, Dorchester weighs on a dreamer's mind. It's an easy feeling to forget and forgetting Dorchester is cause for regret. Rather than sip at a bitter brew, Dorchester, I'm headed home to you.