|
I'm thinking of when I first touched you |
|
Your skin was electric |
|
Now I'm far too wise to dwell on such things |
|
And far too sentimental to forget them |
|
I read somewhere memories are stories you write for yourself |
|
To explain who you are, and how you got there |
|
And to blame it on somebody else |
|
Now the gifts are open |
|
The toys are broken |
|
The speeches are all spoken |
|
And the dishes cleared away |
|
The stream keeps flowing |
|
My doubts are growing |
|
'Cause I've got no way of knowing if it'll be damned or reach the sea |
|
For you and me |
|
I met a man twice my age |
|
Half joking, he said 'I should warn you. |
|
You're a fish on the line, and the lines pulling in, and there's a frying pan coming to warm you'. |
|
And while I smiled, it occurred to me |
|
I'm just gristle and blood |
|
And I've spent half my life with the sun in my eyes |
|
Chasing rainbows through the mud |
|
When I was a child in a little kid's world |
|
My heart was the same as the one I have now |
|
But it amazes me how much everything else has changed |
