Was it ever going to be the same,
The people who walked holding hands,
Like our grandparents before us,
Stuck in their soul like the shoes,
They wear from the generation before,
The way of their times of being a man.
As I walk with my daughter,
I can see him in her life,
Inevitably.
The people who walked holding hands,
Like our grandparents before us,
Stuck in their soul like the shoes,
They wear from the generation before,
The way of their times of being a man.
As I walk with my daughter,
I can see him in her life,
Inevitably.