Don't know why My old friend My old friend, I recall The times we had, hanging on my wall I wouldn't trade them for gold 'Cause they laugh and they cry me Somehow sanctify me They're woven in the stories I have told, and tell again

A tribute to the fallen You cannot break This love with hate Your choice is made So go your way These are the days that will Tell the stories, all Living in the days of the fallen A voice that once spoke of strength and hope

Travel fast Imagine how it would be To be at the top Making cash money Go and tour all around the world Tell stories about all the young girls Have a blast

A flea shine shoeshine man of fifteen Brings the house in with a smile All twelve teeth tell myriad stories One upon one and one The breath in his hand waving Drives the gypsy woman mad She loves him anyway Has told him so a thousand times or more She