
An ancient promise softly beckons like an old forgotten song, My whole life I’ve sought escape I’ve kept my distance, Past transgressions pull me down to the river where I drown, Recollect faces of those bygone days I remember Sergio, he was from Guatemala, A bare-knuckle boxer in a yellow Monfort hat A charmer, you’d let him watch your kids if he wasn’t on parole Well he prayed like a saint, but he cursed like a devil, He’d greet you with a smile and a wink and a nod, But step in the ring, and he’d tear you limb from limb Well you can lay me by the river, Throw my ashes to the wind, Back to the island, I’m going back to the island, Now I can tell you where I’m going, But only God knows where I’ve been, And Lord knows I’m going right back to the place where it all began And don’t forget McIntyre on the 1−2-3! They never made a difference at all, But they went down swinging any way, And those we left behind, some are dead, And some, we’d like ‘em to be, There’s a reason that I left but now it seems I can’t stay away
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