Abertura.

Confetti floats away like dead leaves in the wagon's wake.
There were parties here in my honor 'til you sent me away.
And now silver moons belong to you.

I'm passing the baton from the old mare to the fawn.
It was out of line, but it was fun.
Didn't you love the part right before the dawn?
And now silver moons belong to you.

I'm off to the ballet and to practice all these ancient ways.
Tell the new kids where I hid the wine.
Tell their fathers that I'm on my way.

Hey, Hey!
Maybe these days are over, over now.
Maybe these days are over, over now.
And I loved it better than anyone else you know.

And I believe in growing old with grace.
I believe she only loved my face.
I believe I acted like a child making faces at acquired tastes.

And now silver moons belong to you.
And silver moons belong to you.

I'm off to the ballet and to practice all these ancient ways.
Tell the new kids where I hid the wine.
Tell their fathers that I'm on my way.

Sing "ay oh ay oh ay oh ay!"

Hey!
Maybe these days are over, over now.
I think maybe these days are over, over now.
I believe in growing old with grace.
I believe she only loved my face.
And I think maybe these days are over, over now.

Gone are the days bonfires make me think of you.
Looks like the prophecy came true.
You are a fallen tree; he is a fallen tree.
How old are you? No, how old are you?

Under all the folds of the dresses that you wear.
There's an ocean and a tide and a riot in the square.
Over are the days that the compass made your hair.
Sway around to the cadence of your cheer.
(x3)

Under all the folds of the dresses that you wear.
Sway around to the cadence of your voice when you sang there.

(Silver Moons, Sunset Rubdown)