Have Dreams Become Decrepit?

Visiting the small town of my youth, I longed to find lost moments of truth. I tried to find the hope left behind, Time and young days are hard to unwind. I never forgot this town, or names. Time changed it, yet it is still the same. The difference is time has erased All the moments of our time and place. Buildings where we laughed: decrepit now, Moonlight dancing: they do not allow. Where are the dreamers, we had plenty Old, decrepit, dreaming they're twenty we may have a dream that has grown old One we've polished into a rare gold. And a dream we have may one day die, Not decrepit, it leaves on a sigh.