Saturday morning, coffee's on,
your favourite mug before the dawn.
Key Largo's drifting through the screen door,
morning sunlight's dancing on our wooden floor.
You smile that smile I've known for years,
and my heart still won't slow down.
Without a word, your hand finds mine…
like it always does.
Forty years can teach you plenty,
mostly what was there all along.
Now the tide's the only clock we keep.
We're still dancing,
just slower now.
Not because we have to —
because we know how.
Holding on
without holding tight.
Learning how to slow the day
before it slips away.
We're still dancing…
just slower now.
Friends head home, the lights go low,
every chair's back where it goes.
The dishes done, the house grows still,
red wine waiting on the sill.
An old Buffett tune starts to play,
one we've danced to a thousand times.
Without a word, your hand finds mine…
and around we go.
We're still dancing,
just slower now.
Not because we have to —
because we know how.
Holding on
without holding tight.
Learning how to slow the day
before it slips away.
We're still dancing…
just slower now.
We used to chase tomorrow,
like it couldn't wait to come.
Now we leave a little room
for one more song…
one more sunset…
one more road we've never been.
Every day's another chance
to choose you all over again.
We're still dancing,
just slower now.
Laughing a little louder
in a house gone quiet now.
Every morning,
every mile,
every little thing
we'd have rushed right past,
worth staying for a while.
We're still dancing…
just slower now.
When the music finally fades,
I'll still be reaching for your hand.