The cold October air is blowing in my hair
And I'm losing everything I never thought I would
Where is that old playground
Where is that old sundown, when I would come home late an hour or two
These are the days when we will see all our yesterdays are memories
The tides will rise
The winds will turn
And we are drowning and growing from the burn
The red October leaves hold on to barren trees
And frailty is where we became so strong
Where is that old gun fight
Where is that old twilight, when fire flies were on the run