| When it’s time for your reflection
|
| As you wait till help arrives
|
| See our good friend’s face on the dashboard
|
| And to know you cannot leave that cab alive
|
| Do you know I reach for you, from later times
|
| Once I knew
|
| Once I knew
|
| Now I’m walking
|
| Now I’m walking in the dark
|
| Like bells our dogs are yelling
|
| All across Centennial Park
|
| And the Sunday morning light just sends me blind
|
| And I’m only feeling useless
|
| Cause there’s nothing I can blame
|
| Every person, thing and circumstances
|
| That moves this perfect day
|
| You’ve left behind
|
| And I’m thinking
|
| Christmas 1982
|
| Round this time a year ago
|
| Gaskill sold his boat
|
| And headed for the Cross to sink a few
|
| Never trust a Wayside Chapel crowd
|
| On Christmas Eve
|
| They must be entertained
|
| And if a stranger does the dying
|
| That’s O.K.
|
| And I’m sitting in a hotel room
|
| Along Rue St. Louis
|
| Dialing old phone-numbers down the line
|
| And I measure my position
|
| To the obstacles we crossed
|
| The territory covered
|
| And the parties that we lost
|
| Those were the days
|
| And if I don’t hang around
|
| Our old gambling grounds
|
| It does not mean that I’ve forgotten
|
| We believed, and I still do |