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