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