Sometimes on a rainy morning

Memories begin to fall

As the smell of wet soil rises

Faded pictures come to call

Then I look back to the road I travelled Lined with long­‐forgotten names

And I think about my good companions

Who shared my glory and who saw my shame

And I wonder, was it ever real

And I wonder, did we ever feel this way

And will anything matter at all

At the end of the day?

Sometimes on a sun­‐drowned Sunday

A summer breeze will stroke my hand

And the wind will taste of stories

Of gentle seas and far­‐off lands

Then I stand beside the open window

And hum the air to some old song

It’s been a while since we   sang together

I can’t believe that I’ve been here so long

And I wonder, was it ever real

And I wonder, did we ever feel this way

And will anything matter at all

At the end of the day?