It’s hard to say for sure.  It’s been so long.
I’m pretty sure that I’ve been here before.
The paint is peeling and the color’s wrong,
And there were flowers growing by the door.

I’m pretty sure that I’ve been here before.
What matters is that I was there with you,
And there were flowers growing by the door,
And I could do the things you couldn’t do.

What matters is that I was there with you.
It’s hard to be alone when you are old.
And I could do the things you couldn’t do,
And you had stories itching to be told.

It’s hard to be alone when you are old.
The house is big and empty, now as then,
And you had stories itching to be told:
“I’ll tell you something.  I remember when…”

The house is big and empty, now as then.
The paint is peeling and the color’s wrong.
I’ll tell you something—I remember when—
It’s hard to say for sure.  It’s been so long.