It's 1969 in Lancaster where time is lame where the stagecoach calls as the bandage falls from the legs of the clock, where the face looks on in utter shock as the tick tock bleeds its last.
Once when time was fast and the mornings flew and we as kids knew what to do with the leftovers dropped from the feast of the day, heading on down to skinnydip in the bay and catching the final splashings of rays from the sun, racing through that tidal surge and the urge to run forever never entered our heads.
Sleep left me to bed down with the awkward nights, puberty and the rites of man where passages can twist and turn on the long road to learn the lessons in life.
And I enter again through the door of wanting much more,not knowing what wanting is waiting inside and ride down the years, through jam doughnuts and tears beside and alongside the shadows which echo the laughs of my youth.