The Child Inside

© Words and music by Ray Scudero. All rights reserved.

Snapshots in a dusty shoebox in the corner of the closet on the floor,
Keys in old and rusty door-locks waiting to be turned once more,
A tired teddy bear and a bat and a baseball glove,
And a handmade birthday card “From Sister, With Love.”

(Chorus:)

Oh, my, where have the years gone?
Where are we now and where have we come from?
A long yesterday ago we went to the park to play.
Oh, my, where have all our friends gone?
Where are they now? Do they think of where they came from?
The child inside still wants to go out and play.

See-saw riding up and down and finding a wishing star,
Going home from Levittown singing songs in the back of the car,
Bics and strings and sixteen candles too,
Hopes and dreams all waiting to come true.

Oh, my, where have the years gone?
Where are we now and where have we come from?
A long yesterday ago we went to the park to play.
Oh, my, where have all our friends gone?
Where are they now? Do they think of where they came from?
The child inside still wants to go out and play.

Why the teardrops in my eyes as I try to write this song?
All the hows and wheres and whys of a child who had gone too long.
A tempera painting on the window of a neighborhood store,
Chutes and Ladders and toys on the living-room floor.

Oh, my, where have the years gone?
Where are we now and where have we come from?
A long yesterday ago we went to the park to play.
Oh, my, where have all our friends gone?
Where are they now? Do they think of where they came from?
The child inside still wants to go out and play.




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