The old folks don't talk much
They talk so slowly when they do
They are rich they are poor
Their illusions are gone
They share one heart for to

Their homes all smell of tyme
Of old photographs
and an old fashioned song
Though you may live in town
You live so far away
when you've lived to long

Have they laughed to much
Do their dry voices crack
talking of things gone by
have they cried to much
A tear or two still always seems
To cloud the eye

They tremble as they watch the old silver clock
When day is through
tick tock oh so slow
It says yes it says no
It says I wait for you

The old folks dream no more
Their books have gone to sleep
the piano's out of tune
the little cat is dead
and no more do they sing on a sunday afternoon

The old folks move no more
Their world become to small
their bodies feel like lead
they might look out a window
or else sit it a chair
or else they stay in bed

and if they still go out
arm and arm, arm and arm
in the mornings chill
its to have a good cry
to say their last goodbye
to one whose older still
and then they go home
to the old silver clock
when day is through
tick tock so so slow
it says yes it says no
it says I wait for you

the old folks never die
they just put down their heads
and go to sleep one day

To be continued...