THE TOWN WHERE I WAS BORN © 2002 E. J. Wahl

In the town where I was born
There stands a church, ever so tall
We used to walk by, every day, on the way to school
But now it’s a strange place
What this little boy saw
Could it still be the same

On a street of cobble stone
There’d be people walking and I’d be alone
In the park, where the flowers bloom,
The old man gardener is carting his tools
Down a ways, the river flows
Between ancient buildings and some not so old
And the bells keep ringing, loud and clear
As they have done for some eight hundred years

Friendly faces bid me hello
A puzzled moment, it’s someone I know
A long time ago, these pictures were taken
People have changed but their image remains
Every minute, of every year
That has passed me by while I wasn’t here
Has left its mark on every stone
And the faces of the people that I used to know
Oh no

My uncle died
My aunt, how she cried
My aunt, she died
My mom, how she cried
They don’t live here any more
They don’t live here any more