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

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