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