You walk through the streets with a drink in your hand,
Never did believe in the power of man,
You said when I grow up think I’ll climb trees,
And laugh at all them people that look down at me.
Well I keep trying to make all these angel out of sand;
They keep washing away in palm of my hand.
The ghosts of comrades like nickels and dimes
Fill up my pockets and make keys hard to find.
Seems the way we were ain’t got no more to say,
So maybe we should go out and play.
And climb the mountains that time shrank in the wash.
Take a kid and don’t talk too much he’ll show you where you lost a bunch.
Pick up a rock and laugh too much.
I remember the day you walked away, the sky was clear
And we were there.