i found it somehow strange even then
how you`d go on about it
you shared that vision again and again
til i could see it too, my friend.
imagine us you said all wrinkled bent and grey
three queer old codgers reflecting back
to tangchao`s golden days
together forever more
and i believed as you believed
together`s what we`d have in store
our grandkids fighting duels with drumstick swords
those were your words
guitars and basses slung across
their backs as they climb cross stacks of drums and amps
while we old gramps we cry our joyful tears
and drain a nostalgic class to those wonderful wonderful years
together we`d grow old
tell me why it won`t turn out exactly as you told
tell me why it`s grown so cold
bye! my friends