Lyrics

Please be my ears Come to me I want you to know me I wasn't made for this life And the way it owns me Now as we grow old Who are you? Where am I? These should be the good times These should be the good times Time makes a book marked for use But soon we forget how Hands strike a bell, strings are loosed And the mountains crumble What would need to be For the good of our lives? These should be the good times These should be the good times Now as we grow old Who are you, and where am I?