Memories Of Gold

	Days must be untangled
	For years to be revealed
	We’ve looked from every angle
	With nothing left concealed
	In the winter she wants to be dancer
	In springtime she wants to be a scribe
	In summer she wants to be a painter
	Come autumn the mother of a child
	Where the edge of the hill
	Meets the end of the road
	We make memories of gold
	Our memories of gold
	To have and to hold
	Our memories of gold

	Days must be untangled
	For years to be revealed
	We' ve looked from every angle
	With nothing left concealed
	In the winter she wants to be dancer
	In springtime she wants to be a scribe
	In summer she wants to be a painter
	Come autumn the mother of a child
	Where the edge of the hill
	Meets the end of the road
	We make memories of gold
	Our memories of gold
	To have and to hold
	Our memories of gold