Old Friends歌词

Old friends, old friends,
Sat on the parkbench like bookends
A newspaper blown through the grass
Falls on the round toes
Of the high shoes of the old friends
Old friends, winter companions, the old men
Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunset
The sound of the city sifting through trees
Settles like dust on the shoulders of the old friends
Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing a parkbench quietly
How terrribly strange to be seventy
Old friends, memory brushes the same years
Sliently sharing the same fears.