I see an old man singing on the street corner his sweet love song
As I sit and listen, I wonder what is wrong
He carries a scrapbook all tattered and torn
As he sits quietly and starts to mourn
He starts to paint a drawing as people pass him by
As I walk aways he starts to cry
People gather all around to hear him sing
As he wants to remember the love song he will bring
He carries in his scrapbook memories of his past
Saying that is life is passing fast
We all sit and listen to his song
As I walk away I tell him to be always strong
He smiles and gives me a nod
And whispers to himself I hope there is a god
