| [00:14.300] |
Old friends, old friends, |
| [00:20.300] |
Sat on the parkbench like bookends |
| [00:24.300] |
A newspaper blown through the grass |
| [00:27.300] |
Falls on the round toes |
| [00:34.300] |
Of the high shoes of the old friends |
| [00:45.300] |
Old friends, winter companions, the old men |
| [00:51.300] |
Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunset |
| [00:58.300] |
The sound of the city sifting through trees |
| [01:06.300] |
Settles like dust on the shoulders of the old friends |
| [01:13.300] |
Can you imagine us years from today |
| [01:19.300] |
Sharing a parkbench quietly |
| [01:23.300] |
How terrribly strange to be seventy |
| [01:35.300] |
Old friends, memory brushes the same years |
| [01:42.300] |
Sliently sharing the same fears. |
