Old friends, old friends,
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Sat on their parkbench like bookends
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A newspaper blown through the grass
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Falls on the round toes
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of the high shoes of the old friends
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Old friends, winter companions, the old men
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Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sun
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The sounds of the city sifting through trees
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Settles like dust on the shoulders of the old friends.
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Can you imagine us years from today,
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Sharing a parkbench quietly
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How terribly strange to be seventy
|
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Old friends, memory brushes the same years,
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Silently sharing the same fears
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Time it was and what a time it was, it was...
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A time of innocence,
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A time of confidences,
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Long ago it must be,
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I have a photograph,
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Preserve your memories,
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They're all that's left you...
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-----------------
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Old Friends
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| Paul Simon |
