Ian broudie

Tales told

Ian broudie
Here I am
Receiving gifts that autumn brings
Time's a thief, a gasp
Who's sprinter comes on frozen wings

Now I know
That time for telling tales is gone
Far from home
Still a brother, once a son

Little one
You're the hope they can't destroy
Even when the strangers come
You know, you'll always be your father's boy

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