Letras:
Simon Paul Old Friends

like bookends A newspaper blowin' through the grass Falls on the round toes of the high shoes of the old friends Old friends, winter companions, the old

: Words & music by Paul Simon Old friends, Old friends Sat on their park bench Like bookends. A newspaper blown though the grass Falls on the round

be back home Home is where I want to be I've been on the road so long my friend that if you came along I know you couldn't disagree its the same old

first tour gazing out my window in the rain Sparked a flame and my heart was the propane I remember so called friends calling me out like Paul Simon

Words & music by Paul Simon Old friends, Old friends Sat on their park bench Like bookends. A newspaper blown though the grass Falls on the round toes

(Paul Simon) Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again, Because a vision softly creeping, Left its seeds while I was sleeping,

Words & music by Paul Simon Old friends, Old friends Sat on their park bench Like bookends. A newspaper blown though the grass Falls on the round toes