You can take away my wealth You can take my youth from me But return me those childhood days That monsoon rain That paper boat floating in water The neighborhoods oldest possession That old lady we called grandma Those wrinkles on her face Stories of decades hidden in them Long stories of heavens Yet the nights were so short Those dreams of heaven Life was so content and so pure Those hot summer afternoons That catching of bu*terflies, then watching them fly away Those fits of anger, throwing him away
That teddy called Robin, full of mud Picking him up and caressing him again Those white clouds I called haven That bird called fairy taking me there Fights over life that was pretend Suddenly changing into friendships again Fights over the swings That falling from the swings and getting up again Neither were the sorrows of life Nor were the strains of relationships Words of mother so proud Little boy of mine would go far, very far in life How true were those words who knows