[male
vocals] (
Guitar
arpeggios
leading
into
a
warm,
mellow
horn
swell)
Oma,
those
were
the
days!
Chai,
let
me
take
you
back
to
the
beginning.
My
childhood
was
fair,
the
sun
always
shone
bright
Three
square
meals
on
the
table,
morning,
noon,
and
night
I
remember
Sunday
mornings,
the
excitement
in
the
air
Rice
and
a
piece
of
beef,
a
treat
beyond
compare
Nna,
we
lived
a
life
so
simple
and
so
sweet
Walking
through
the
neighborhood,
dust
upon
our
feet
Oh,
the
golden
days,
they
call
to
me
like
home
Even
when
we
strayed,
we
never
felt
alone
With
the
silver
spoon
in
hand,
we
laughed
under
the
sun
Every
single
memory,
it
was
just
for
the
fun
Oya,
let
the
music
play
for
the
days
of
old
Stories
of
our
youth,
more
precious
than
the
gold
We
jumped
in
the
pickup
truck
to
head
to
church
on
Sunday
morn
In
those
days
of
innocence,
before
the
world
was
torn
School
fees
were
paid,
my
parents
held
the
line
We
never
felt
the
burden,
everything
was
fine
Life
was
good,
simple,
and
full
of
grace
I
see
the
happiness
written
on
every
childhood
face
Oh,
the
golden
days,
they
call
to
me
like
home
Even
when
we
strayed,
we
never
felt
alone
With
the
silver
spoon
in
hand,
we
laughed
under
the
sun
Every
single
memory,
it
was
just
for
the
fun
Oya,
let
the
music
play
for
the
days
of
old
Stories
of
our
youth,
more
precious
than
the
gold
We
trekked
to
school
with
brothers,
sisters
by
my
side
With
nothing
in
this
world
we
ever
had
to
hide
Hospital
gates
were
open,
no
money
left
to
pay
Just
health
and
strength
to
carry
us
through
every
single
day
Chop
life,
we
did,
in
the
streets
we
played
so
hard
With
bruises
on
our
knees,
running
through
the
yard
Every
day
that
breaks,
it
tells
a
brand
new
story
Of
children
in
the
street,
chasing
all
their
glory
Unescorted
we
would
wander,
fighting
just
for
play
Coming
home
all
dusty
at
the
closing
of
the
day
It
was
part
of
the
fun,
a
rhythm
in
our
soul
Looking
back
now,
I
finally
feel
whole
Oh,
the
golden
days,
they
call
to
me
like
home
Even
when
we
strayed,
we
never
felt
alone
With
the
silver
spoon
in
hand,
we
laughed
under
the
sun
Every
single
memory,
it
was
just
for
the
fun
Oya,
let
the
music
play
for
the
days
of
old
Stories
of
our
youth,
more
precious
than
the
gold
Those
days
of
gold,
forever
in
my
heart (
Omalicha
memories)
Even
when
we’
re
older,
we
never
drift
apart (
Chai!)
Just
keeping
the
rhythm,
the
highlife
melody
My
childhood
days,
my
sweet
memory. (
Fade
out
with
intricate
guitar
picking)