Whenever I get to
feel this way
hard to find
new words to say
I think about
the bad old days
we used to know
Nights of winter
turn me cold
Fears of dying
getting old
We ran the race
The race was won
by running slowly
Could be soon
we'll cease to sound
Slowly upstairs
faster down
Then to revisit
stony grounds
we used to know
Remembering mornings
shillings spent
Made no sense
to leave the bed
The bad old days
they came and went
giving way to
fruitful years
Saving up
the birds in hand
while in the bush
the others land
Take what we can
before the man
says it's time to go
each to his own way
I'll go mine
Best of luck
with what you find
But for your own sake
remember times
we used to know