Saunders Ferry Lane

It's sixty-six and cloudy here this morning. I'll make a bet those clouds turn to rain. The weather's rusted out the sign and I almost missed the turn That'll take me down to Saunders Ferry Lane. The creaking boards of the empty dock are the only sounds I hear. The sign on the catfish stand says, "Closed till spring." The summer drowned in the frozen lake as winter came to life, And nothing moves in Saunders Ferry Lane. Nothing moves in Saunders Ferry Lane. Raindrops mingle with the leaves that tumble to the ground As I find my way to the spot where we once lay, But the grass is dead; the laughter's gone; the birds have flown away. It's awful cold in Saunders Ferry Lane, Awful cold in Saunders Ferry Lane. The gentle arms that held me and made me want tomorrow Now are gone. We found so much comfort in the way we loved each other, Then the angels came as quietly as the dawn. Standing by the water in the icy winter wind, I find no present comfort for my pain. With no gentle arms to hold me now, I know there's nothing worse Than a day alone in Saunders Ferry Lane, A day alone in Saunders Ferry Lane. It's thirty-two and raining here this evening. I'll make a bet that rain will turn to snow. It's hard to see through all these tears and I almost missed the turn That leads away from Saunders Ferry Lane, Leads away from Saunders Ferry Lane.