It's the sad-eyed, goodbye, yesterday moments I remember.
It's the bleak street, week-kneed partings I recall.
It's the mistier mist
The hazier days
The brighter sun
And the easier lays
There's all the more reason for laughing and crying
When you're younger and life isn't too hard at all.
It's the fantastic drowse of the afternoon Sundays
That bored you to rages of tears
The unending pleadings, to waste all uour good times
In thoughts ~of your middle aged years
It's a vertical hold, all the things that you're...
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