All the hellos and the good-byes they're just today
All the thank yous and I love yous, Just something we say.
All the night walks and the bed talks, that kept our dreams alive,
And what will you remember when you are sixty-five?

Will you think of me as a young man or know that I've grown old?
Will think of me as a wild youth or something you controlled?
Will you remember that I loved you and still would do the same?
Or at sixty five will you have forgotten that young man's name?

Will you wonder if I'm living or dead in pauper's grave?
Will you come by some old picture or something you might have saved?
Will you tell, should I be famous, your children of me?
Or at sixty five will you rather let old mem'ries be?

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