Old friends

Simon & Garfunkel

 Old   Friends. Old   Friends. Sat on their park bench like bookends.
newspaper blown through the grass falls on the round toes of the
 high shoes of the Old Friends.
 Old   Friends. Winter companions the old   men. Lost in their
 overcoats waiting for the sunset. The sounds of the city, sifting
through trees, settle like dust on the shoulder of the Old Friends.
 Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a park bench quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy.
 Old   Friends. Memory brushes the same  years. Silently sharing the
 same fears.

Am C C6 Cmaj Cmaj7 Dm7 Em7 F Fm Fmaj7 G G7
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