Then Charles Aznavour

We were happy then
Burning up the days
The kinds of plays that last so long
Busy making hay every busy day
Sung a summer song
Saying come what may
Nothing could go wrong

We were hungry then
Sharing every crust
Often halfway lost
Often halfway poor
Close in every touch
Nothing mattered much
Somehow we'd endure
We were both so young
We were both too sure

They had a glow
They had a shine
Those days of hope
And cheap white wine
Suddenly one day
Summer ebbed away
Winter came to stay