| Song | First Recollection |
| Artist | Cowboy Junkies |
| Album | Pale Sun Crescent Moon |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Timmins | |
| My first recollection, a day in | |
| DecemberBlack iron steam engine covered in ice | |
| Like some | |
| Cambrian monster | |
| Moaning and snorting | |
| Nothing was ever going to beat that beast | |
| In a fair fight | |
| I've sat and watched the woodpiles | |
| Grow through the summer | |
| Now I'm sittin', smellin' summer burn through the fall | |
| Winter's coming on, days gettin' dreary | |
| And I'm thinkin' this is the season | |
| Where I leave you all | |
| I've heard a man in a crisis | |
| Falls back on what he knows best | |
| A murderer to murder, a thief to theft | |
| And I don't want you to think | |
| That this is some kind of deathbed confession | |
| Umm, but run is what | |
| I did when put to the test | |
| My first recollection is a day in | |
| NovemberSeven forty seven tracin' lines through the sky | |
| Like some old gypsy curse | |
| Silently praying | |
| Upon the dreams of those | |
| Who jealously watch life passing by | |
| I've sat and watched my troubles | |
| Pile through the summer | |
| Now I'm sitting, hearing my youngest cry down the hall | |
| Winter's coming on, days getting dreary | |
| And I'm thinking this is the season | |
| That I leave you all | |
| I've heard that the son must bear | |
| The burdens of the father | |
| But it's the daughter that is left to clean up the mess | |
| And I don't want you to think | |
| That I'm asking for absolution | |
| Umm, but run is what | |
| I did when put to the test |
| zuo qu : Timmins | |
| My first recollection, a day in | |
| DecemberBlack iron steam engine covered in ice | |
| Like some | |
| Cambrian monster | |
| Moaning and snorting | |
| Nothing was ever going to beat that beast | |
| In a fair fight | |
| I' ve sat and watched the woodpiles | |
| Grow through the summer | |
| Now I' m sittin', smellin' summer burn through the fall | |
| Winter' s coming on, days gettin' dreary | |
| And I' m thinkin' this is the season | |
| Where I leave you all | |
| I' ve heard a man in a crisis | |
| Falls back on what he knows best | |
| A murderer to murder, a thief to theft | |
| And I don' t want you to think | |
| That this is some kind of deathbed confession | |
| Umm, but run is what | |
| I did when put to the test | |
| My first recollection is a day in | |
| NovemberSeven forty seven tracin' lines through the sky | |
| Like some old gypsy curse | |
| Silently praying | |
| Upon the dreams of those | |
| Who jealously watch life passing by | |
| I' ve sat and watched my troubles | |
| Pile through the summer | |
| Now I' m sitting, hearing my youngest cry down the hall | |
| Winter' s coming on, days getting dreary | |
| And I' m thinking this is the season | |
| That I leave you all | |
| I' ve heard that the son must bear | |
| The burdens of the father | |
| But it' s the daughter that is left to clean up the mess | |
| And I don' t want you to think | |
| That I' m asking for absolution | |
| Umm, but run is what | |
| I did when put to the test |
| zuò qǔ : Timmins | |
| My first recollection, a day in | |
| DecemberBlack iron steam engine covered in ice | |
| Like some | |
| Cambrian monster | |
| Moaning and snorting | |
| Nothing was ever going to beat that beast | |
| In a fair fight | |
| I' ve sat and watched the woodpiles | |
| Grow through the summer | |
| Now I' m sittin', smellin' summer burn through the fall | |
| Winter' s coming on, days gettin' dreary | |
| And I' m thinkin' this is the season | |
| Where I leave you all | |
| I' ve heard a man in a crisis | |
| Falls back on what he knows best | |
| A murderer to murder, a thief to theft | |
| And I don' t want you to think | |
| That this is some kind of deathbed confession | |
| Umm, but run is what | |
| I did when put to the test | |
| My first recollection is a day in | |
| NovemberSeven forty seven tracin' lines through the sky | |
| Like some old gypsy curse | |
| Silently praying | |
| Upon the dreams of those | |
| Who jealously watch life passing by | |
| I' ve sat and watched my troubles | |
| Pile through the summer | |
| Now I' m sitting, hearing my youngest cry down the hall | |
| Winter' s coming on, days getting dreary | |
| And I' m thinking this is the season | |
| That I leave you all | |
| I' ve heard that the son must bear | |
| The burdens of the father | |
| But it' s the daughter that is left to clean up the mess | |
| And I don' t want you to think | |
| That I' m asking for absolution | |
| Umm, but run is what | |
| I did when put to the test |