My first recollection is a day in December

Black iron steam engine covered in ice

Like some Precambian monster moaning and snorting

Nothing is 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 a crisis falls back on the one 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 November

Seven forty seven tracing lines through the sky

Like some old gypsy curse silently preying

Upon the dreams of those who jealously will watch life pass them 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's 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