In the streets, the children screamed,
Lovers cried and the poets dreamed,
Not a word was spoken. The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most,
The father, son and the holy ghost,
They took the last train for the coast the day the music died.

And they were singing, bye-bye Miss American Pie.
Drove my Chevy to the levy, but the levy was dry.
Good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye singing,
"This will be the day that I die. This will be the day that I die."

And the three men I admire most,
The father, son and the holy ghost,
They took the last train for the coast the day the music died...

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