my crooked teethnyour polished shoesnmy weary headnyour lousy tunesnni don't know why i do the things i doni'm all bad newsnnand we don't look as sharp as we shouldnbut the squeaking of my shoesnwill lead me back to younand everyday it's not the samenbut the sparkle in your eyenlight up the life in mennand when we agenwe'll watch the loonsnwe'll look back just likenold folks donnwe're like an arrow in a bownthe far you stretch it (?) the far it goesnnand we won't look as sharp as we shouldnbut we'll see the world togethernlike we're meant to donand in the endnill hold your handnand as clear as day we'll both understand