Paul Simon - Old Friends Lyrics
Old friends, old friends,Sat on their parkbench like bookendsA newspaper blown through the grassFalls on the round toesof the high shoes of the old friendsOld friends, winter companions, the old menLost in their overcoats, waiting for the sunsetThe sounds of the city sifting through treesSettle like dust on the shoulders of the old friends.Can you imagine us years from today,Sharing a parkbench quietlyHow terribly strange to be seventyOld friends, memory brushes the same years,Silently sharing the same fears