Syracuse

You were the gentlest of giants You were the stories that you told Even when you were lying We knew the truth How you joined the Navy And fought that war And you married her Like you said before you left you would It was 1945 On a fireman's pay Bought a red brick house And some pale pink paint And you rolled it out there on the walls That would witness all our lives On Syracuse You were the gentlest of giants When you held your newborn child Every day you would try and try and try And the years flew by And your daughter grew And she married him Like you always knew someday she would And the granddaughters came soon We'd blink our lights as we drove away And you'd stand outside the garage and wave Then turn inside When you couldn't see us anymore You couldn't fight the fire Of the certainty of time And Gram had left us Years before we knew That you were dying And you didn't know who I was some days But you held my hand And you asked my name A thousand times And I told you all I knew A tire swing on a willow tree And the stilts you built And the peonies your sweetie loved All the time that slipped away On Syracuse So the gentlest of giants Every story that he told Faded into the silence So I drove I watched the sun go down On that red brick house With the pale pink paint You and Gram picked out Still on the walls But everything had changed And I blinked my lights As I drove away And I wished like hell You were there to wave Just one last time, one last time, one last time On Syracuse Syracuse Syracuse Syracuse