Old friends, old friends
Sat on their park bench like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the ground toes
Oh the high shoes
Of the old friends
Old friends
Winter companions, the old men
Lost in their overcoats
Waiting for the sun
The sounds of the city
Sifting through trees
Settle like dust
On the shoulders
Of the old friends
Can you imagine is years from today
Sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy
Old friends
Memory brushes the same years
Silently sharing the same fears
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
Preserve your memories
They're all that's left you