Brown Newspapers and Paper Bags

Sitting by the old town hall, friends and tales a circle of gold; pass the bottle, pass it up; seen so little, seen too much.
Dark that falls the embers rise, plumes of smoke, the dragon’s eyes; signs of times changing around, past that’s gone, future that’s found.
New acquaintances, a fresh world; old allies, never let go; journey starts, a chapter ends. Will we meet here again?
Starlight skies plot the map; where will we end up? Will we sit around like this, tell our tales and laugh again?

Brown newspapers and paper bags, glorious sun that’s overhead.
Let the good times roll.
Sipping whiskey by the haunt, regaling tales I’ve heard before.
Let the good times roll.

Where are those days, young life we all knew? (Golden times)
Parting now, will we ever see the day? (Allies in arms)
Sit back and we’ll drink to those good times. (Smiles and laughs)
Golden sun that greets, farewell till we meet.

Brown newspapers and paper bags, glorious sun that’s overhead.
Let the good times roll.
Sipping whiskey by the haunt, regaling tales I’ve heard before.
Let the good times roll.

Scarlet serpent with the hungry eyes, wolf of ice passing by; mythical creatures be my guide now that I leave.
To the valley of fallen birds, barbarian hordes on plains of sand; raise a cry, raise a howl; streak the blood on my face.
Now the climes of a genteel race, etiquette and manners not my taste; on I go to different lands finally I’ll head home to friends.
Sitting by the old town hall, friends and tales a circle of gold; smoke rising embers fall, pass the bottle I’ll tell it all.