Sun kissed cobblestones, line the streets of gold,

Streets we long to walk one day when heaven we behold,

Dreams of simpler times, days of having fun,

Time to spend with those we love, under the summer sun,

Those days will wither like the trees, we’ll see them disappear,

We hold the memories in our grasp, for just another year,

Those moments alter over time, they’ll never be again,

We move on towards our final goal, we don’t know where or when,

When eyes are tightly closed in dreams, the past may reappear,

We treasure all those golden days, and every sound we hear,

The rap of traveling horses, clopping upon the stones,

The smells that waft from the bakery, tastes of freshly baked scones,

Long dresses dusting the sidewalk, gentlemen tip their hats,

The rat race doesn’t exist there, we’ll leave that to the rats.

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