In the shade of a weeping willow, once I played as an innocent child, where the earth was my only pillow, and I gazed at the clouds passing by. What became of the weeping willow? Branches bare cracking concrete and grime, swaying there in the freeway shadow, in the breeze of a car passing by. See them pass you by. See them pass you by. There it sways in the freeway shadow, in the breeze of a car passing by. So I cried for the weeping willow, and the dead rustling leaves replied, there is so little time for sorrow, when your life is passing you by. See them pass you by. See them pass you by. There is so little time for sorrow, when you life is passing you by. I am just like a weeping willow, soon I'll bend and wither with time. Try and taste what is sweet and mellow, for the moment is passing you by. For the moment is passing me by. For the moment is passing me by.