First Recollection
(Michael Timmins )

My first recollection is a day in December,
black iron steam engine covered in ice
like some Precambrian monster,
moaning and snorting.
Nothing was ever going to beat that beast
in a fair fight.

I've sat and watched the woodpiles
grow through the summer
now I'm sitting, smelling summer
burn through the fall.
Winter's coming on, days getting dreary
and I'm thinking this is the season
that I leave you all

I've heard a man in crisis falls back on
what he knows best,
a murderer to murder and a thief to theft.
And I don't want you to think that this is
some kind of deathbed confession,
but run is what I did when put to the test.

My first recollection is a day in December,
747 tracing lines through the sky
like some old gypsy curse silently preying
upon the dreams of those who
jealously watch life pass by.

I've sat and watched my troubles
pile through the summer
now I'm sitting, hearing my youngest cry
down the hall
Winter's coming on, days getting dreary
and I'm thinking this is the season
that I leave you all.

I've heard that the son must bear
the burdens of the father
but it's the daughter that is left
to clean up the mess.
And I don't want you to think
that I'm asking for absolution,
but run is what I did when put to the test.


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Last update: May 8, 2004
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