Memories Of Gold - Ben Harper, Ellen Harper

Days must be untangled

For years to be revealed

We’ve looked from every angle

With nothing left concealed

In the winter she wants to be dancer

In springtime she wants to be a scribe

In summer she wants to be a painter

Come autumn the mother of a child

Where the edge of the hill

Meets the end of the road

We make memories of gold

Our memories of gold

To have and to hold

Our memories of gold