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(c) 2004 W.A. Kostelec
Storyteller 2
When the first snow of Winter
White blankets the fallen leaves
Frost crackles on all my windows
And it all comes back to me
In the park was a little river
At the bottom of Dead Man’s Hill
We’d sled there in the Winter
I wish I was there still
There are shadows in the Nightime And Shadows in my dreams
There’s no one to remember The day I turned Nineteen
A train ride in the Winter
An airplane in the Spring
Casting shadows on our childhoods
Now it don’t mean a thing
Old photos in an album
They’re Black, and they’re White, and they’re Brown
All those smiling fading faces
Now there’s no one left around
There are shadows in the Nightime And Shadows in my dreams
There’s no one to remember The day I turned Nineteen
Where have all my good friends gone
From the days we were so bold
So wild so drunk and so headstrong
Full of stories never told?
If there were an Eternal City
Would they walk its streets of gold
Leave this Land that showed no pity
And the ground that lies so cold?
There are shadows in the Nightime And Shadows in my dreams
There’s no one to remember The day I turned Nineteen
