Composed, performed, produced by Bob Forbes.
Lyrics
A ribbon of remembered light,
Backwards in the corridor of night.
Faces in a window, half-faded disappearing thin,
Watching ghosts across the river of what has been.
Memory crossings, where we pay with time,
Waiting at the toll booth for our hearts to read signs.
Tricky memory crossings, leaving thoughts on high,
If we trace the minds feeling, maybe we’ll arrive.
Remember how we learned to let it go,
Across the bridge, how the cold would glow.
All the names we knew chiseled in stone,
They rise again whenever recollection is found.
Memory crossings, where we pay with time,
Waiting at the toll booth for our hearts to read signs.
Tricky memory crossings, leaving thoughts on high,
If we trace the minds feeling, maybe we’ll arrive.
Arrange the scattered pieces, stitch them in a line,
We will build a crossing out of everything we find.
Memory crossings, where we pay with time,
Waiting at the toll booth for our hearts to read signs.
Tricky memory crossings, leaving thoughts on high,
If we trace the minds feeling, maybe we’ll arrive.
Faces in a window, half-faded disappearing thin,
Watching ghosts across the river of what has been.
Copyright 2026; Bob Forbes
Very nice sounding soft rocker, Bob! Prof sound and production.