“Oh, well then talk about… when you’re born… start from day one.” My first memory’s a baby carriage dream, A high old pram, fit for a queen. Momma went out, left me leaning on the side, She came back home and she nearly cried. “Oh Lord, what a life, Hanging on the edge so tight. I was only two, only new, And the years keep rolling through. At three years old I clung to her coat, “Don’t talk to her, Mommy, no, no, no.” She was mine, just mine to hold, Even then, my heart was bold. Oh Lord, what a life, Jealous heart and childish nights. I was only three, don’t you see, And the years kept chasing me. At four years old, toys in a row, Laid by the gate, said “Take what you want, go.” Momma just smiled, she smiled at them all, Said peasants lived just down the wall. Oh Lord, what a life, Giving all my treasures light. I was only four, giving more, And the years came knocking on the door. From the pram to the street, From her smile to my feet, Every year a brand-new song, What’s next, what’s next, as life rolls on. Oh Lord, what a life, From baby dreams to neighbor’s eyes. I was only two, three, four… And the years keep asking more. “Oh gosh… what’s next? What’s next?”
