my crooked teeth
your polished shoes
my weary head
your lousy tunes

i don't know why i do the things i do
i'm all bad news

and we don't look as sharp as we should
but the squeaking of my shoes
will lead me back to you
and everyday it's not the same
but the sparkle in your eye
light up the life in me

and when we age
we'll watch the loons
we'll look back just like
old folks do

we're like an arrow in a bow
the far you stretch it (?) the far it goes

and we won't look as sharp as we should
but we'll see the world together
like we're meant to do
and in the end
ill hold your hand
and as clear as day we'll both understand