Из альбома: September of My Years
That year in Oakland High when I was seventeen
The grass from there to San Jose was high and cool and green
I see it now
Too brash and young was I to know what time could mean
The old Acacia, long cut down, was felt but never seen
I see it now
That world I knew is lost to me
Loves have come and gone
The years go racing by, I live as best I can
And all at once I know it means the making of a man
I see it now
I see it now
I see it now