Jack Blanchard and Misty Morgan


"There Must Be More to Life (Than Growin' Old)"

Sky full of factory smokestacks...
Hot cinders paint the snow black.
Turn up my collar to the cold.
My old boots are wet and dirty.
Missed my bus, it's seven thirty.
Aw, There Must Be More To Life Than Growin' Old.

Each day seems like the last one;
Each year, just like the past one;
As if they stamped them from a mold.
Somehow it seems to be
The only change is you and me.
There Must Be More To Life Than Growin' 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

Words and music copyright © 2002©Jack Blanchard
Jack Blanchard Songs ®  (BMI)
All Rights Reserved