She asked 'hows Seattle' in some motherly talk
Its okay, its mostly grey
I think I'm just leveling off
And sometimes I think I'm running around
Like a dog with no song, no song
And I'm following some flickering lamp
In the fog, the fog
I know, I know, that I'm getting older
I don't think they really like me
If I could stay just a little longer
They might be giving up new greys
Think back, to the time we drove
To Park Slope for a walk
It's okay, it's far away
I just think I'm measuring ours
And sometimes I think you're writing this down
for the songs, the songs, the songs
and it's something that you don't really feel
but it's ours, it's ours, it's ours
I know, I know, that I'm getting older
I don't think they really like me
If I could stay just a little longer
They might be giving up new greys
Pa pa pa pa, I'm getting old, I'm getting older
Pa pa pa pa
Pa pa pa pa, it's getting cold upon your shoulders
Pa pa pa pa
I know, I know, that I'm getting older
I don't think they really like me
If I could stay just a little longer
They might be giving up new greys