Ordinary Story

Every morning the old man walks by

In his hands he holds the paper and his little wife

They'd been together for a long, long time

It's been years of love and bickering and Sunday nights

But they're getting older and he knows inside

But he's not ready to let her go so he holds on tight

I watch them both take one step at a time

Maybe some day I will get it, oh

Ordinary story just like the ones we're told

All these foreign faces come and go

Need someone to hold me as we're growing old