There's a few of the old crowd still meet up at Christmas and
each raise a glass to the past and good friends.

The crowd's thinning out now, but I'm thinking out loud now
it's still quite a sizeable group
(If you don't count so well )

We reminisce about that and the other and
it's this that makes the bond stronger

I suppose the longer we go on the few will become less

there are flywheels in the abattoir
and they spin to a six string guitar
the piano plays on down in Abilene to the tunes of a cowboy and his praire dream.

It's all alike or a bit the same
never knowing if one had been
sane what the outcome would have been.