Climbing up the sycamore tree
Tearing up time and scraping knees
Breaking the barrier on an old gate
Digging in mud for fishing bait

Down at the quarry
where we wandered then
Holding back the years
before becoming men

We swam with our shoes on
and built fires to dry
Until the summer's end
and we said our goodbyes

Never looked back
until far down the lane
Now only these faded
shadows remain