| I wish I had pictures of every old day
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| Cause all these old memories are fading away
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| There used to be pictures, but they faded too
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| Or got lost in the hubbub, or I’d show them to you
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| Of all my old lovers, folks I used to know
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| And those I still care for, who died long ago
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| The glamorous cities, each cute little town
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| The trees turning purple and yellow and brown
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| If I were an artist, with charcoal and pad
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| I’d make my own pictures of each day I’ve had
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| If I were a poet, I’d know the right word
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| I’d make it all pretty, and grand, and absurd
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| If I were an actor, with just a wisecrack
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| Or some little gesture, I’d bring it all back
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| But I’m just a singer; |
| it’s only a song
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| The things I remember are probably wrong
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| I wish I had pictures of every old day
|
| Cause all these old memories are fading away
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| All these old memories are fading away
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| All these old memories are fading away
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| All these old memories are fading away |