I ride the wings of memory,
Back to the days when there was much to see
There was no hurt, no sting of bees,
Back in the days of memory.

I know the days of memory.
I’ve seen the butterflies float in the breeze
In the days of rest and the days of ease;
These are the days of my memory.

Do you know the days of memory,
Back before innocence was lost in the trees?
The worst thing we knew was the skinning of knees,
Back in the days of memory.

I know that I’ll never be able to leave
And rest in the arms of summer's relief,
But the best thing to do is get caught in the breeze,
And ride on the wings of memory.