As the faces of the rock begin to gather at the ground,
And the manzanita finds a way to curl and to be,
And the second hand is satisfied with how it comes around,
And the waves percuss against the heat and come back to the sea,
I love the way that we grow old, the way my teeth are getting dull,
And the way the river turns to a ravine after it's full,
And how the parking lots are growing full of weeds after the cull;
Oh yeah, I love the way that we grow old.
As the trauma you remember from way back when you were young
Begins to dissipate and be replaced by something more profound,
Like the way the paint is drying as it hangs there on the rung,
And how you watch it with the brush still in your hand without a sound,
I love the way that you decide to let things be as it gets cold,
And the way the cards all hover on the table when you fold,
With unfamiliar ease creeping up on us like mold;
Oh yeah, I love the way that we grow old.
When the girls are still young but you decide to take a job,
And suddenly the chapter starts to sputter to a close,
And the thought of leaving it behind just makes your spirit throb,
But time is inescapable and it knows what it knows,
I love the way that we march on into the unfamiliar shoals,
How the light looks on the ocean floor as afternoon takes hold,
How casual you are when you are brave and you are bold;
Oh yeah, I love the way that we grow old.
With the work that you've been doing beginning to grow thin,
As if you've just been waiting in a pool for the tide,
And now you see the shadow of a big wave coming in,
And every fiber of your being says to brace yourself or hide,
I love the way that you prepare against the nature of your soul,
The way the earth will shudder as it curls and it rolls,
How dignified the answer as the question takes a toll;
Oh yeah, I love the way that we grow old.