When I was a young boy. Roamin' on the railroad tracks. Put copper pennies on the rails. Locomotive come and squash 'em flat. We'd run to fetch 'em back.
Some folks don't like workin' hard. Some folks don't like rain. Some folks love to tell you. All about their aches and pains. Me, I take the hand I'm dealt.
Got a message in my mailbox. From an old friend I hardly see. All it said was you were trying. To get in touch with me. . And I stared down at your number.
A long long time ago. When we were young and pretty. We ruled the world, we stopped the time, we knew it all, we owned this city. Running with the crowd, carefree and proud I heard somebody say.