Old mountains are rounded. The steep, jagged peaks worn by weather and time. Old folks stoop. Pride and vanity eroded by loss and heartache. The lucky ones are left with love. Sweet memories.
I know more than I've ever known and I don't know much.
I can't sing on key and I never could and I'll fumble Bb two times out of three. Okay, ninety nine times out of a hundred.
If I sing you a happy song, though, that's real joy. If I sing you a sad one, well- let's just wait for another happy one.