Sky full of factory smoke stacks hot cinders paint the snow black

Turn up my callar to the cold

My old boots're wet and dirty missed my bus at 7:30

Ah there must be more to life than growing old

Each day seems like the last one each year just like the past one

As if they're stamped on from the mold

Somehow it seems to be the only change is you and me

There must be more to life than growing old

There must be more to life than growing old

What happened to the dreams we used to hold

We never asked for cities paved with gold there must be more to life than growing old

We never asked for cities paved with gold there must be more to life than growing old

There must be more to life than growing old