Pile of postcards across the front yard All of 'em worried you didn't need the same It's gettin cold We're gettin older If I sound hurried, I ain't running away I'm only chasing The paper on the pavement, playing country tunes Bracing, bracing for the pain I don't see coming soon Tell me about your day while I lay on top of you Or sit across from you I'm hard to watch I know I lost my touch Cut my hair and then it never grew Took a Greyhound, then I was southbound Georgia on my mind right next to you Round New Jersey I was getting wordy I'll send a bird to sing "I love you, too" Wait a week some You know I'll see you, hon But I better get there before these papers do It's always raining Like the song we love that's double both our ages Changing like the seasons and their reasons not for staying long Like the wind, and the tide Baby you and I can meet in Macon Get to shakin Our records playin