domenica, novembre 10, 2002

Hang on to your hopes my friend
That's an easy thing to say
But if your hopes should pass away
Simply pretend that you can build them again

Look around
Grass is high
The fields are ripe
It's the springtime of my life

Ooooh, seasons change with the scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Won't you stop and remember me
And at a convenient time

Funny how my memory skips
While looking over manuscripts

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