There are pictures on the piano, pictures of the family, Mostly my kids but there's an old Picture of you and me. You were five and I was six In 1952; That was forty years ago, how could it be true?
We were sitting outside drawing At a table meant for cards, And it must have been in autumn, Falling leaves in the front yard, With a shoebox full of crayons, Full of colors oh so bright, In a picture in a plastic frame, A snapshot black and white.
You were looking at my paper, watching what I drew; It was natural: I was older, Thirteen months more than you. A brother and a sister, a little boy and girl, And whoever took that picture Captured our own world.
A brother needs a sister to watch what he can do, To protect and to torture, to boss around, it's true; But a brother will defend her For a sister's love is pure, Because she thinks he's wonderful When he is not so sure.
In the picture there's a fender of our old Chevrolet Or Pontiac, our dad would know, surely he could say; But dad is dead and we grow old; It's true that time flies by; And in forty years the world has changed As well as you and I.
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Copy to Clipboard: There are pictures on the piano, pictures of the family, Mostly my kids but there's an old Picture of you and me. You were five and I was six In 1952; That was forty years ago, how could it be true?
We were sitting outside drawing At a table meant for cards, And it must have been in autumn, Falling leaves in the front yard, With a shoebox full of crayons, Full of colors oh so bright, In a picture in a plastic frame, A snapshot black and white.
You were looking at my paper, watching what I drew; It was natural: I was older, Thirteen months more than you. A brother and a sister, a little boy and girl, And whoever took that picture Captured our own world.
A brother needs a sister to watch what he can do, To protect and to torture, to boss around, it's true; But a brother will defend her For a sister's love is pure, Because she thinks he's wonderful When he is not so sure.
In the picture there's a fender of our old Chevrolet Or Pontiac, our dad would know, surely he could say; But dad is dead and we grow old; It's true that time flies by; And in forty years the world has changed As well as you and I.
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