(hum) Sweet memories, sweet memories...(hum). . My world is like a river, as dark as it is deep. Night after night, the past slips in and gathers all my sleep.
His daddy was an honest man, red dirt Georgia farmer. His mamma lived her short life having kids and baling hay. He had fifteen years, an ache inside to wander.
I turned down the covers on a bed where two lovers. Found reasons to face each new day. In a room full of memories, in a house built for love. On a street down in Swiss Cottage Place.