Old Folks

Michael Johnson

The old folks don't talk much and they talk so slowly when they do

They are rich, they are poor, their illusions are gone, they share one heart for two

Their homes all smell of time, of old photographs and an old fashioned song

Though you may live in town, you live so far away when you've lived too long



And have they laughed too much, do their dry voices crack talking of times gone by

And have they cried too much, a tear or two still always seems to cloud the eye



They tremble as they watch the old silver clock when day is through

It tick-tocks oh so slow, it says yes, it says no, it says I'll wait for you



The old folks dream no more, the book have gone to sleep and the piano's out of tune

The little cat is dead and no more do they sing on a Sunday afternoon

They old folks move no more, the world's become too small, their bodies feel like lead

They might look out the window or else sit in a chair or else they stay in bed



And if they still go out arm in arm, arm in arm, in the morning chill

It's to have a good cry, to say their last goodbye to one who's older still



And then they go home to the old silver clock when day is through

It tick-tocks oh so slow, it says yes, it says no, it says I'll wait for you



The old folks never die, they just put down their heads and go to sleep one day

They hold each other's hand, like children in the dark but one would get lost anyway

And the other will remain just sitting in a room which makes no sound

It doesn't matter now, the song has died away and echoes all around



You'll see them when they walk through the sun filled park where children run and play

It hurts too much to smile, it hurts too much, but life goes on for still another day



As they try to escape the old silver clock when day is through

It tick-tocks oh so slow, it says yes, it says no, it says I'll wait for you



The old, old silver clock

That's hanging on the wall

That waits for us all