Hear Mom singing in the kitchen
My ears stuck to her like glue
Probably some old gospel that her Momma knew
I would sit at the piano
On a long slow after-noon
Press down seven keys
To see what happens when they move
Grey rain is a falling
This weather is appalling
The streets of a small town
Are dirty and common
The house that I grew up in
Has long been forgotten
But these memories will carry me home
There were bats in the attic
Their day was slow and static
They’d plan their escape
In a cloud they’d leave fast and frantic
They’d fly down by the river
The soggy Saugeen River
While a full moon’s light
From way up high makes the dew shine silver
CHORUS
On the edge of a small town
Where the wild thistle grow
Seen the tracks pulled up
But that death happened long ago
We made plans to travel
Not much else to us seemed good
Like a weed pulled up
A storm cloud rolling through the neighbourhood
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