Written by Don Gibson.

I still live on the same street,that we lived on.
The same old street,where memories were made on.

I shouldn’t stay,why don’t I go?.
Each day hurts a little more.

It won’t be the same street anymore, since you’ve gone.
It won’t be the same street anymore.

Each day I walk alone,where we once walked before.
See all familiar places, where we talked before.

But I can’t run,from memories.
They’re mine and they belong to me.

It won’t be the same street anymore.since you’ve gone.
It won’t be the same street anymore.