Yesterday,
when I was young,
the taste of life was sweet as rain upon my tongue.
I teased at life as if it were a foolish game,
the way the evening breeze may tease a candle flame.
The thousand dreams I dreamed,
the splendid things I planned,
I always built alas on weak and shifting sand.
I lived by night and shunned the naked light of day,
and only now I see how the years ran away.
Yesterday,
when I was young,
so many lovely songs were waiting to be sung.
So many wayward pleasures lay in store for me,
and so much pain my dazzled eyes refused to see.
I ran so fast that time,
and youth at last ran out.
I never stopped to think what life was all about,
and every conversation I can now recall
concerned itself with me and nothing else at all.
Yesterday,
the moon was blue,
and every crazy day brought something new to do.
I used my
magic age as if it were a wand,
and never saw the waste and emptiness beyond.
The game of love I played with arrogance and pride,
and every flame I lit too quickly, quickly died.
The friends I made all seemed somehow to drift away,
and only I am left on stage to end the play.
There are so many songs in me that won't be sung.
I feel the bitter taste of tears upon my tongue.
The time has come for me to pay for yesterday,
when I was young.
When I was young.
When I was young.
Ooh,
so young.