Hey now, lover
why don’t you meet me anymore?
It’s me, I’m standing here,
waiting in the snow
She said, your feet are too tender
for a ground so cold
Like children pretending,
living on stolen gold
You say your love’s growing cold
Like the times, our lives are changing
Is this what they call growing old?
I don’t know if I can take it.
Catalogue number: GC042
Year of induction into catalogue: 2015
written by: Sid Mysore