lemonade stands and memories of innocence and purity and the noon-day sun at
ninety degrees (the things i carry with me) the ice cream man at four or five
how we'd flag him down and ask for rides and evenings when we'd sit outside and
name the cloud shapes in the sky those days are gone now and we must carry on
but i will not forget the things i learned on your front lawn and how we rode
those dusty trails on huffys and schwinns from christmas sales made forts out
of crates with rusty nails and only came home when our stomachs failed those
days are gone now and we must move forward still but i will not forget the
things i understood at your window sill i walked your street again last night
and laughed to dull the sting of spite but your door was dark and it made me
cry cause mother always kept you shining bright but things they change and
people grow and move in step with the green-paper flow but deep inside i wonder
(or maybe i already know) that they never really find the answers.
