This isn't all forever,
This isn't going to last.
Some day in the future,
The present'll be past.
There won't be smiling faces,
Or a young body to run.
Gone will be faces so widely known,
And all of the fun.
Soon we'll have to get old,
Pass over a milestone.
But will we ever look back fondly,
Think of how we've grown?
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Golden rays of happiness, Reach down from the heaven above, To kiss the surrounding prairie.
Ruby red wine sits in the crystal glass. The dusty leather bound book a diary of the past. The old clock ticks, striking upon the hour The candle is no more, extinguished by the draught.
I lay in bed, unmoved by the breaking of dawn, And stare out across my room Which, since I stirred Has become gradually crowded with the misty memories Of long-since melted winters, and crisp summer...
77 years old today, On Brighton Beach, Loving it, looking back On memories But, decided to throw My life away, Well, give it up, anyway Gift it to the Sea, Bottle of whiskey In one hand, Smoke in the...
This place I've known for way too long has taken me and pulled me along I'm stuck just like a nail to wood and can find the time that had once stood for when I become so old and grey I want to...
Memories: They're something we look back on, To bring us a smile when we are down. To envisage a person, Much rather than wearing a frown.
I'm sad to soon be waving bye to my beloved Olympics, I don't know how I'll spend my days; just go back to the basics.
I turned on the evening news. Saw a old man being interviewed. Turning a hundred and two today. Asked him what's the secret to life. He looked up from his old pipe.
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