I remember the streets unfolded like a map.
I was in the oldest part of the city.
My mother told me stories of when she was a child as we watched clothes dry on a balcony.
There was a choir singing gospels loud and clear.
Oh no, I didn't know how to feel.
That was the last time I took Holy Communion.
I had to walk to the alter to see their faces clear.
When you asked me if I was okay I couldn't answer (I just shook).
But oh, what would you do?
How would you feel if the world paid attention to you?
Oh, how they grow up!
They were the shoes we wore when our wives fell in love with us.
Don't let them call my name to an empty room.
If you'll do that for me I'll do it for you.
The only suit I own is black and if it stays right at the back of my wardrobe this year could be a better one.
Some things must die for some to grow and though I'll find my own way home I know I'll never be alone again.
But oh, what would you do?
How would you feel if the world paid attention to you?
Oh, how they grow up!
They were the shoes we wore when our wives fell in love with us.
Don't let them call my name to an empty room.
If you'll do that for me I'll do it for you.
I'm a number at home, you're a number abroad.
I don't know what to do.
But I'll remember your face, any time any place, if it's the last thing that I'll ever do.
If it's the last thing that I'll ever do.