One of my earliest songs, written in the late 60s (though it’s been through a few changes since then: haven’t we all?)
backup:
There’ll never be a better time for starting something new
I’m spending too much time alone, brooding over you
But nothing comes that easy, and I’ve got so insecure
Since the angel I was slowly learning how to trust is surely finding
Strange ways of turning long-time dreams into nightmares after all
The sun will rise and fall and the night will win again
So I’m promised with no guarantee of stars
And in my street-lit room I will sing some different tune
To the futile rusting chords of my guitar
The beggar-clown will weep as he tiptoes through my sleep
If he knows, he will not tell me where you are
In his hand he holds a candle I reach out to pluck its blossom
And it lies between the strings of my guitar
This may well be the first song I ever wrote that I can still remember all through, though it’s changed a lot since 1969. It contains some of the original lines, but the tune has changed completely.
Wheal Alice Music 