E
Catching bullfrogs, climbing trees,
A7
Riding bikes and skinning knees;
E . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . B7
Knocking down a wasp's nest, getting stung.
E
Shooting marbles and making friends.
A7
It seemed the days would never end.
E . . . . . . . . . . . B7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . E
Growing old, remembering being young.

Poodle shirts and charcoal pants;
Fights that broke out at a dance.
Rock'n'roll were all the songs we sung.
Drive-in movies we ignored,
Making out in Dad's old Ford.
Growing old, remembering being young.

     . . . . . . . A7 . . . . . . . . . E
    Growing old, growing old.
    E . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . B7
    We never did whatever we were told.
     . . . . . . . A7 . . . . . . . . . E
    Growing old, growing old.
    E . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . B7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . E
    It never crossed our minds that we'd grow old.

We thought that we would change the world
As angry protest words were hurled.
Dreams of a better world to which we clung.
But the fight was just too tough.
Peace and love were not enough.
Growing old, remembering being young.

Cold War and atomic fears;
Reggae, rap, the disco years.
Cell phones brought a new millennium.
It's all just a blur to me.
Now my life is history.
Growing old, remembering being young.
    Growing old, growing old.
    No longer quite so brash or quite so bold.
    Growing old, growing old.
    It never crossed our minds that we'd grow old.

A7 . . . . . . . . . . B7 . . . . . . . . . . . . E
Growing old, remembering being young.