Hair on your head, white as the snow Old Man, stand feeding the pigeons Your body is rust. Skin is like dust Seen in the last light of evening Lines on your face, each one a trace Of happiness, distance and sound Lonely you stand. Weak are your hands Old Man with too few tomorrows Memory's gone, friends passed along Old Man, stand lost in your reverie Life has been kind, to give you this time To dream on the strand the wind blows People pass by, go on their way Not wishing to engage conversation You, you know why. One look in your eyes Reminds them their time is wastin' Hair on your head, white as the snow Old Man, stand feeding the pigeonsTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
