Might
We rock in old chairs,
In time with the breeze.
Smiling as we watch,
Our children play in the trees.
That future is now faded,
And somehow has slipped away.
But I could never get,
Those good things to rhyme anyway.
In time with the breeze.
Smiling as we watch,
Our children play in the trees.
That future is now faded,
And somehow has slipped away.
But I could never get,
Those good things to rhyme anyway.