The fact is cold, but crystal clear, that life's a one-way climbThe present and the past can never meetThe doors that lead to yesteryear are locked by Father TimeBut the windows are the children in the streetWith each new dawnI listen for the soundsOf children in the streetSo happily at playThe sounds of joyOf innocence and youthOf simple songs they singAnd nonsense words they sayAnd when they smileI'm blindly unawareThе chorus of my lifeHas long ago been sungI see the glowOf laughter in thеir eyesAnd magically, it seemsThat once again, I'm youngAnd I'm amongThe children in the street
