D . . . . . . . . . . . . Em . . . . .
Three of us hiked through the woods.
F#m . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . D . . . . .
Tommy followed the path with every stride.
I explored each side trail whenever I could
And Patrick set out straight across the countryside.

I explored cliffs and abandoned shacks,
Climbing trees and going round each bend.
Tommy stayed on the path; he never looked back.
And we didn't see Patrick again till we reached the end.

CHORUS:
    C#m . . . . . Bm . . . . . C#m
    Round and round we go.
    Bm . . . . . . . . . . . . F#m
    How the mushrooms seem to glow.
    Break off a piece and eat it now
    Or else you'll never know.

We waited an hour until Patrick appeared,
Smiling and covered with leaves and mud.
With tales of bear, deer, and bright-colored birds,
He made us laugh and he chilled our blood.

    G#m . . . . C#m . . . . . Bm . . . F#m
    The years passed and Tommy rose
    G#m . . . . . . . . C#m . . . . . Bm . . . . F#m
    Steadily on the path to the executive suite.
    Bm . . . . . . . . . F#m . . . . Bm . . . . . . . . F#m
    I jumped from job to job, always on my toes,
    Em . . . . . . . . . F#m . . . . . . . . . C . . . . D . . . . Em
    Trying to keep my balance and landing on my feet.
Patrick played piano and his flute
In crowded cellars and in smoke-filled halls,
Saying that one day he would put down roots,
When he'd done everything and seen it all.

Chorus

Now Tommy's vice president in charge of something fine
While I still work down on the assembly line.
Patrick flies to Asia and hitch hikes in France.
He's loved and lost and loved again, whenever he had the chance.

And Tommy sleeps securely in his bed at home
While I sneak out in the night alone
To dance with Tommy's daughter under a pagan moon
While on his flute Patrick plays a primordial tune

Chorus