I am a child of the wind, even daddy said so

We used to race and I would always win

And he'd say "Run baby run, run like the wind, that’s it, the wind"

Memory is a most unusual thing, Sunday

Well bookie dear, at the close of this first day, first Sunday of a brand new year

I find myself seeking thee

It's such a comfort in the still hours of the night to have a chat

With one so easy to chat with

I remember the loud sounds

The shouting, the many voices of men

All pitches, low to high, high to low, and grumbled

As if it was yesterday

I am a child of the wind, even daddy said so

We used to race and I would always win

And he'd say "Run baby run, run like the wind, that’s it, the wind"

Memory is a most unusual thing, Monday

We had just gone to church that day, mama so loved that church

Though she found the pastor sometimes tired

But she went and praised in peace for all God's children

We always had to sit in the very back, dressed in our very best

It seemed wrong, but was pretended as right

Daddy used to say "Grown people always playing pretend

Just to get through the saddest of lives"

I'm pressing on the upward way

New heights I'm gaining every day

Still praying as I'm onward bound

Lord plant my feet on higher ground

I cut to the close of this day tired

And ready to lay me down to sleep, yet I find it hard to go to sleep

I thank God for keeping me from violence

I am a child of the wind, even daddy said so

We used to race and I would always win

And he'd say "Run baby run, run like the wind, that's it, the wind"

Memory is a most unusual thing