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Knuckles on the memory door
One by one the old days pour
This old man came rolling through With a crooked grin and sky-blue
shoes
Nick knack, tapping on the frame
Every little number had a name
Like counting all the hearts we've been The child we lost,
the child within
One for the years that slipped away
Two for the words we could not say Three for the rooms
still glowing warm
Call me back before the storm
This old man plays on my bones Turns my dust to golden
tones Nick knack, sing me home again
Make a lantern of what has been Round and round the feeling
runs Till the dark breaks into sun
He was a joke and a prophecy A hand-me-down kind of honesty
Every count a little scar Every scar a fallen star
When I say four,
I mean let go When I say five,
I mean still grow
If the rhyme is just a wheel
Why does it teach the heart to heal
Old refrain, turn me around
Lift me when I touch the ground This old man plays on
my bones Turns my dust to golden tones Nick knack,
sing me home again
Make a lantern of what has been
Round and round the feeling runs
Till the dark breaks into sun
This old man, soft and slow
Counts the places light can go