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On a sunny Sunday morning
we took a walk along the pier
you were laughing at some silly joke I told
the sweetest sound I'll ever hear

We made our way down to the harbour
and sat a while on Annie's chair
Sun like flashbulbs on the water
and the wind blowing in your hair

I can still hear your sweet, sweet laugh
and feel your hand pressed into mine
and this will be the only photograph
of the years you were mine

I can still hear your sweet, sweet laugh
and feel your hand pressed into mine
and this will be the only photograph
of the years you were mine

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