Tekst:
Emerson Lake Palmer In The Hot Seat

It was a cold night in December The snow lay on the ground She was coming home from school one night From the other side of town It was getting late,

Crickets are chirpin', the water is high, There's a soft cotton dress on the line hangin' dry, Windows wide open, African trees Bent over backwards from

Lead me from tortured dreams Childhood themes of nights alone. Wipe away endless years, childhood tears as dry as stone. From seeds of confusion, illusions

Come forth, from love's spire Born in life's fire, Born in life's fire. Come forth, from love's spire In the burning, all are [of our] yearning, for