Old Friends, Old Friends, Sat on their park bench like bookends
Newspaper blowin' through the grass
Blows on the round toes, of the high shoes, of the old friends
Old Friends, Winter companions the old men
Lost in thier overcoats, waiting for the sunset
The sounds of the city sifting through trees
Settle like dust, On the shoulders of the old friends
Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly
How terribly strange to be seventy.
Old Friends, Narrowly brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fear
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Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence
A time of confidences
Long ago it must be
I have a photograph
Prison your memories
They're all that's left you
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