Sky full of factory smoke stacks hot cinders paint the snow black
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Turn up my callar to the cold
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My old boots're wet and dirty missed my bus at 7:30
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Ah there must be more to life than growing old
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Each day seems like the last one each year just like the past one
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As if they're stamped on from the mold
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Somehow it seems to be the only change is you and me
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There must be more to life than growing old
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There must be more to life than growing old
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What happened to the dreams we used to hold
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We never asked for cities paved with gold there must be more to life than growing old
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We never asked for cities paved with gold there must be more to life than growing old
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There must be more to life than growing old
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There Must Be More To Life
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| Jack Blanchard & Misty Morgan |
