We're all just made up of moments
Thoughts between two points in time
The longing for memories of yesteryear
Themselves become tomorrow's souvenir
A recollection of
A collection of rememberances
A monument to bygone days
A memento that is going to stay

It's times like this where I wish that
Time was seven years younger
She stood in front of me
And asked me, "what's your favorite color?"

To have been a photojournalist,
An archivist or cinematographer
Would have made life easier
For an opportunity to remember
August 20th 1984
Or maybe the summer of '88
Time shoves memories to oblivion
But I'm counting on this one to linger on

(Chorus)

(Chorus)