The arties kids

I remember in our old house,
We used to have a dog in our yard on our grass.
In our celler, we had a swing chair,
Coloured glaze on our windows made of glass.
I remeber that time as a colourful time,
We had what we need and it was always enough.
My father used to say,
that progress is tough.

And me and my friends find an unusall hobby,
We were taking the gouash and paint on the fences.
We were the artistic in our neighborhood,
We weren't punks from now and hence.

We were the "arty kids",
The kids who have talent and skills.
The kids who didn't damaged a property,
The kids who never steel.
After a while,
I left our town,
I were so alone,
Alone all around.

And more years passed away,
I became an adult officially.
Me and you stoped to draw,
and I'm the cause from the initially.
And than when I met you,
it was hard to recognize.
It took a while to understand,
and realize.
We were so different,
but somewhere along the rode,
We're still the arties boys,
from the great old abode.

We were going outside with our gouash,
We were painting our feelings on my new wall.
And now that we are back in the business,
the arties kids can Rock 'n' Roll.