All my high hopes They were made on tight ropes But I didnt know this at the time I'm sleeping through sermons I'm dreaming I know this is wrong but they dont seem to mind Big yellow buses Those late morning rushes I'm learning to read and to fight We're writing letters Booking cars like they're feathers I'm green today But tomorrow I'll do better And these clocks are slow And I'm choking on the tether And I miss my home And I'll love you then But remember when you're low And write the words on all the sticks and stones On the count of ten We'll pretend we're old As I'm waiting, waiting, waiting For my time to go And tomorrow will be better And these clocks are slow And I'm choking on the tether And I miss my home And I'll love you then But remember when you're low And write the words and on all the sticks and stones On the count of ten We'll pretend we're old Remember when We would pretend we're old