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She wanders down the avenue wrapped up against the cold
Her steps were longer yesterday, but now they’re not so bold
Wrinkles of anxiety are furrowed on her brow
She used to try and hide them but she doesn’t bother now

Heard the music from her door
Asked her who she’s singing for
She told me that she isn’t sure
But he must be far away
Days may come and the days may go
They come so fast and they go so slow
It’s not too late for her life to grow
If she only finds the way, only finds the way

She sits and reads the letters from the people she once knew
There must have been a hundred once but now they’re getting few
She gazes from her attic window out across the town
The traffic rumbles onward and she feels a little down

She thinks about tomorrow – will they always be the same?
Adding each that little more to the years behind her name
She thinks about the days gone by; the things she might have done
She isn’t even old and grey, but she’s still the lonely one