This place is always a little lonely
At the weekends...no noise and life;
I like solitude,
But not in places
Where's there's recently been
A lot of people.
Reclusiveness protects you
From nostalgia,
And you can be as nostalgic
In relation to what happened
Half an hour ago
As half a century ago, in fact more so.
                                                            
I went to the Xmas party.
I danced,
And generally lived it up.
I went to bed sad though.
Discos exacerbate
My sense of solitude.
My capacity for social warmth,
Excessive social dependence,
And romantic zeal,
Can be practically deranging;
It's no wonder I feel the need
To escape...
                                                       ­     
Escape from my own
Drastic social emotivity,
And devastating capacity
For loneliness.
I feel trapped here;
There's no
Outlet for my talents.
                                                        ­    
In such a state as this,
I could fall in love with anyone.
The night before last,
I went to the ball,
Couples filing out,  
I wanted to be half of every one,  
But I didn't want to lose * * *.  
I'll get over how I feel now,
And very soon.
Gradually I'll freeze again,
Even assuming an extra layer of snow.  
I have to get out of here.

I feel at one with sweethearts
Through the years,
With the wartime lovers
Who went overseas,
All the shattered hearts,
All the rivers of tears,
I feel them all.

Verses of love,
Lovers who must part,
Portraits of love
Worn so very close to the heart,
All the lovers lost,
Loves that never even start,
I feel them all.

As a young man,
I was always obsessed
By melancholy.
I saw deep sadness,
The quality
That so tormented my heroes,
Such as Arthur Rimbaud,

And Montgomery Clift,
As glamorous and romantic,
But it’s not…
It’s not remotely romantic,
When you yourself are adrift,
And weighed down,
By a multitude of woes.

I remember the grey slithers of rain,
The jocular driver
As I boarded the bus
At Temple Meads,
And the friendly lady who told me
When we had arrived at the city centre.
I remember the little pub on King Street,
With its quiet maritime atmosphere.
                                                                  
I remember tramping
Along Park Street,
Whiteladies Road and Blackboy Hill,
My arms and hands aching from my bags,
To the little cottage where I had decided to stay
And relax between rehearsals,
Reading, writing, listening to music.
I remember my landlady, tall, timid and beautiful.

It’s happening again,
Such unbearable pain,
And if my soul is crying
As my heart is breaking, then that’s fine…

I’ve let so many people down,
Lost so many beautiful opportunities
I feel so failed and forlorn,
But is that really such a tragedy?

Perhaps, rather,
It’s a positive thing,
Shouldn’t a true artist be suffering?
At least I’m feeling something…

It’s happening again,
Such unbearable pain,
And if my soul is crying
As my heart is breaking, then that’s fine…

I go back,
Though sometimes it’s filled with pain,
I go back,
‘cos nothing will be the same
Precious places
I first knew,
When life and youth,
And hope were new
I flow back,
And memories flow back too.

I yearned for another,
Who wasn’t you,
But she wasn’t there,
Unlike you,
At a long lost party
In old Cambridge town.

Did I fall
Just a little for you,
While longing for another,
Who wasn’t you,
At a long lost party
In old Cambridge town.

South Pacific, Jiminy Cricket,
This world
I tried to gain access,
I tried to write
A book
That would capture
All my happiness,

Full of romance,
Life that was enhanced
By beauty and love,
Carousel and Disneyland,
Babycham deers
And romantic lands,
These patterns I wove.

One summer’s eve in Spain,
I fled through an open window,
Butterflies aflight
In the very pit of me,
And I tramped the streets,
My heart abrim
With such a love,
But a love now long gone.

With my final matches,
I forged a heart
At that maiden’s doorstep;
I was like a thief,
On that torrid night,
My heart abrim
With so much love,
But a love now long gone.

And what of the maiden in azure?
O! What an inferno raged
Within my soul for her,
But that love
Never bloomed beyond a dream,
My heart abrim
With such a love,
But a love now long gone.

Costa Calida sun,
I hope we’re reunited,
Though I can’t say when,
I may see you again,

Costa Calida sun
Means memories romantic,
Of when that I was young,
Memories of Spain.

Auto-annihilation is stupid,
It breaks hearts.
And ruins lives,
I hate that I was ever self-destructive,
I rue the day I became entranced
By its shadowy charisma,

While alcohol spoiled my life:
Poor Jo-Jo was right
To warn her cherished daughter
Of its insidious malignancy.
I was one of the felicitous ones
In that it didn’t entirely destroy me,

But despite its lack of glamour,
In comparison to
other more romanticised intoxicants,
It’s among the most lethiferous of drugs
That stole from me
What remained of my gorgeous youth.

O how
Ruefully I pine
For a long lost Espanya,
What I wouldn't give,
To be young again...
And happy as I was back then...

Maria, full of peace,
Do you remember
Francis Albert
Sing songs of Tom Jobim
That mournful afternoon...
Happy as you were back then...

O for
That wide-eyed
Impression of yours,
Paquita La de Murcia
Of your beloved Marilyn...
Happy as you were back then...

O how
Ruefully I pine
For a long lost
Espanya,
What I wouldn't give,
To be young again...
And happy as I was back then...

I was in a ****** bar,
Or public house,
Being threatened,
For something I’d done.
Darting furiously…
Through city streets,
Running, running,
For something I’d done.
My companion hailed,
And stopped a bus,
Its metal doors flew open,
For something I’d done.
Had to get to them,
Had to get through them,
Under furious pursuance,
For something I’d done.

my paris begins with
those early days
as a conscious flaneur
i recall the couple
seated opposite me
on the metro
when i was still innocent
of its labyrinthine complexity
slim pretty white girl
clad head to toe in denim
smiling wistfully
while her muscular black beau
stared through me
with fathomless orbs
and one of them spoke
almost in a whisper
qu'est-ce-que t'en pense
and it dawned on me
yes the young parisienne
with the distant desirous eyes
was no less male than me

dismal movies
in the forum des halles
being screamed at in pigalle
and then howled at again
by some kind of madman
or vagrant who told me
to go to the bois de boulogne
to meet what he saw
as my destiny
menaced
by a sinister skinhead
for trying on tessa's
wide-brimmed hat
getting ****** in les halles
with sara
who'd just seen
dillon as rusty james
and was walking in a daze
sara again with jade
at the caveau
de la huchette jazz cellar

cash squandered
on a gold tootbrush
two tone shoes
from close by
to the place d'italie
portrait sketched
at the place du tertre
paperback books
by symbolist poets
but second hand volumes
by trakl and deleve
and a leather jacket
from the marche aux puces
porte de clignancourt
losing gary's address
scrawled on a page
of musset's confession
walking the length
and breadth of the rue st denis,
what an artist's paradise
(as juliette once wrote me).

There was a sadness I revered
But never possessed,
Because there was youth
And hope to spare,

But as youth ebbs,
And hope recedes,
I know that sadness for real,
And how sad true sadness feels.

When I was young,
I was so carefree,
At least that’s how
It seems to me,
Isn’t it strange,
How things turn out to be?

Full of hope,
Full of passionate dreams,
A thrilling new world
Lay right before me,
Isn’t it strange,
How things turn out to be?

Glass half full,
Then it’s half empty,
My mood can change
So very unpredictably,
Isn’t it strange,
How things turn out to be?

You told me that your name was Maria,
And that you came
From the Netherlands,
But you looked more like a Latina,
With flowing dark hair,
Perhaps a natural tan,

I was in love,
So much in love,
But I let love pass me by,
All through my life,
So much of my life,
I have let love pass me by.

You left me with a casual ‘I’ll see you’,
But I looked for you
All over London town,
It’s like that I was paralysed with fear,
I could have sworn
I saw you on the underground,

I was in love,
So much in love,
But I let love pass me by,
All through my life,
So much of my life,
I have let love pass me by.

What was I thinking,
I let you go,
I wasn't drinking, still
I let you go,
Where was my head at to
Let you go,
I can't accept that I just
Let you go.
                                                                    
I wish I could make
Amends,
So we could at least
Be friends,
I have no real
Reason why,
I let you
Say goodbye.
                                                                    
Did I confuse you when
I let you go,
Such a fool to have
Let you go,
You were so precious, still
I let you go,
Worth more than jewels, still
I let you go.
                                                                    
I wish we could
Start again,
I'd be quite
A different man,
I've learned quite a lot
Since then,
I know how
To keep a friend.
                                                                    
We could meet up in the
Centre of town,
And I'd explain my motivations,
About how I came
To let you down,
And all those other
Explanations,
And crazy complications.
                                                                    
I'm not asking for
Romance,
Just give me half
A chance,
I’ve come to have
A good, kind heart,
So how about
A brand new start.
                                                                    
What was I thinking,
I let you go,
I wasn't drinking, still
I let you go,
Where was my head at to
Let you go,
I can't accept that I just
Let you go.

He had no insight into the mysteries
Of the gilded sports
Of the British social elite,
By the time he arrived at his beloved college,
Long, long ago in a long-forgotten England,

And in later years, when he looked back at his beloved college,
He'd insist if he possessed a single quality
That might be termed noble
He owed it to his education,
And not least the four years he spent there,

And there’d be times when certain pieces
Of quintessentially English pastoral music
Still had the power to evoke his strange and sudden flight,
While seeming to him to bespeak a passion
For the Arcadian soul of England that verged on the ecstatic,

And others when he’d dream of a day
He might return to the scene of his flight as if in atonement,
And commune with the soul of his beloved England,
With a passion verging on the ecstatic,
And then put the memory to rest for all time,

For he absconded once...just the once it was...
To avoid being chastised for something foolish he did,
And he finished up wandering, forlornly wandering,
His boots freshly caked with the purest English soil,
Long, long ago in a forgotten field in England.

Dear, I haven't been in touch
For a long time.
Sorry.
The last time I saw you
Was in St. Christopher's Place.
It was a lovely evening...
When I knocked that chair over.
I am sorry.
Since then,
I've had not a few accidents
Of that kind.
                                                              
Just three days ago,
I slipped out in a garden
At a friend's house...
And keeled over, not once,
Not twice, but three times,
Like a log...clonking my nut
So violently that people heard me
In the sitting room.
What's more,
I can't remember a single sentence
Spoken all evening. The problem is...

In every case, there is a sorrow
Attached to advancing age,
And the decline attendant upon it,
Decline physical, mental, emotional,
In every case, there is a sorrow.

But somehow, there is a special sorrow,
In the pathetic tears
Of an ageing man,
Looking back at the thousand plus follies
Of a stupidly misspent youth,

But somehow there is a special sorrow,
Attached to those who look back
With eyes filled with the tears
Of fathomless and torturous regret,
And of promise unfulfilled.

In Hamburg I loved
A strange girl,
She put my whole being
In a whirl,

She spurned everybody
But me,
I made her happy,
In Hamburg.

But if she had
Spurned me,
I'd have looked her in the eye,
And run away,

And in my room,
I would have cried,
I might even have died,
In Hamburg.

Kind faces smiling,
Nodding politely at words
They don’t seem to understand.
Show me pictures
Showing the richness of
A faraway distant land.
Multicoloured motor cars,
Brown apartments rising high
In Puerto Rican skies.

I feel a deep, deep sorrow,
As life nears its final page,
The hardship that comes with age,
I simply can’t help but rage,

But somehow, there’s a special sorrow,
In tears cried for love long gone,
In remembrance, suffuséd with pain
Of my lost angel.

I feel a deep, deep sorrow,
In promise that’s unfulfilled,
In youth that has been misspent,
In a life with so much regret,

But somehow, there’s a special sorrow,
In tears cried for love long gone,
In remembrance, suffuséd with pain
Of my lost angel.

Angel, I remember you,
I’ve missed you for so long,
Angel, you belong
To memories,

Angel, when I think of you,
I hear sad romantic songs,
Songs that make me long
For yesterday.

I feel a deep, deep sorrow,
As life nears its final page,
The hardship that comes with age,
I simply can’t help but rage,

But somehow, there’s a special sorrow,
In tears cried for love long gone,
In remembrance, suffuséd with pain
Of my lost angel.

And so the party...Zoë
Called me...I listened
To her problems;
References
To my innocent face.
Linda said:
"Sally seems elusive
But is in fact,
Accessible;
You're the opposite -
You give to everyone
But are incapable
Of giving in particular."

Madeleine was comparing me
To June Miller;
Descriptions by Nin:
"She does not dare
To be herself..."
Everything I'd always
Wanted to be, I now am.
"...She lives
On the reflections
Of herself in the eyes
Of others...
There is no June
To grasp and know."

I kept getting up to dance
Sally said: "I'm afraid;
You're inscrutable;
You're not just
Blasé
Are you?"
I spoke
Of the spells of calm,
And the hysterical
Reactions,
Psychic exhaustion,
Then anxious elation.

She's precious as can be,
She means so much to me,
So much to me.
She spells generosity,
And she's always been
A friend in need.
Been so many years
Since that we
First met in our heyday,
So young and so free,
Sun-soaked days,
No tears, no cares,
Back in our heady heyday,
What I'm trying to say,
Is I think the world of she.

She's tender as can be,
Her kindness is for real,
So real for me,
She sends her warmth to me,
Like gentle poetry
That I can feel.
Been so many years
Since that we
First met in our heyday,
So young and so free,
Sun-soaked days,
No tears, no cares,
Back in our heady heyday,
What I'm trying to say,
Is I think the world of she.

Love, you've left me once again,
Gone to catch an early plane,
Where you gonna fly this time,
In search of the perfect clime?

I am the one you leave behind,
Worried out of my tiny mind,
I was the one who saw you through,
I need your care and loving too.

Love, you've left the happy home,
You've pledged your solemn word you'll phone,
But I would rather you were here,
You've no conception of my fear.

Halfway across a crazy world,
Is no place for such an unknowing child,
If only you could see me cry,
Then maybe you'd stop to wonder why.

If I fell in love with you,
I would like to
Make my dreams come true,
You could fulfill all yours too,
So come on, honey,
Just one look will do,
I'll lose my heart to you,
Like all the moonstruck do.
                                                                    
We could go all round the world,
Just like other
Moonstruck boys and girls,
So come on, honey, don't be scared,
We are only young once,
Say the word,
I'll lose my heart to you,
Like all the moonstruck do.
                                                                    
Bali, Frisco, Rio, or wherever
You may choose,
The world's our oyster, honey,
There'll be no more bad news,
We could leave tomorrow,
I tell you we can't lose,
We will soon be
Saying bye bye to those blues.
                                                                    
If I fell in love with you,
I would like to
Make my dreams come true,
You could fulfill all yours too,
So come on, honey,
Just one look will do,
I'll lose my heart to you,
Like all the moonstruck do.

Until recently, I had the impression
Of decaying
Along with the moral standards
Of contemporary Europe,
With London as the lieu
To which all Autoroutes lead.
                                                           ­         
In my room, I was surrounded
By debris
Of my existence,
Lacking the will even to clear
The carpet, whose colour,
Incidentally I came to forget.
                                                         ­           
I ceaselessly tampered with my hair,
Growing it long,
Having it cropped, hennaing it red,
Dyeing it blue-black, bleaching it near-white;
It fell out in bunches,
Desiccated and exhausted.
                                                      ­              
My face grew sallow and haggard,
With bloodshot, inflamed,
Glazed, blue-ringed orbs,
And bitten, bloated, ravaged lips.
My body lost its athletic aspect,
And became shapeless and emaciated.

Yesterday for my birthday,
I started off
with a bottle of wine...
I took the train
into town...
I had half a bitter
at the Cafe de Piaf
in Waterloo...
I went to work
for a couple of hours or so;
I had a pint after work;
I went for an audition;
after the audition,
I had another pint
and a half;
I had another half,
before meeting my mates,
for my b'day celebrations;
we had a pint together;
we went into
the night club,
where we had champagne
(I had three glasses);
I had a further
glass of vino,
by which time,
I was so gone
that I drew an audience
of about thirty
by performing a solo
dancing spot
in the middle
of the disco floor...
We all piled off to the pub
after that,
where I had another drink
(I can't remember
what it was)...
I then made my way home,
took the bus from Surbiton,
but ended up
in the wilds of Surrey;
I took another bus home,
and watched some telly,
and had something to eat
before crashing out...
I really, really enjoyed
the eve, but today,
I've been walking around
like a zomb;
I've had only one drink today,
an early morning
restorative effort;
I spent the day working,
then I went to a bookshop,
where, like a monk,
I go for a day's
drying out session...
Drying out is really awful;
you jump at every shadow;
you feel dizzy,
you notice everything;
very often,
I don't follow through.

From morn to friendless night,
He tramps the streets,
Just in case he might
Come across her, he's a tragic sight,
But he doesn’t care,
Love gives him might,
He haunts the cafes and the discos
And the bars, so lovelorn.
                                                              
He knows that he won't find her,
But he's got to keep on trying,
It gives some meaning
To his life,
It gives some substance
To his time,
It is his motive, and his project,
And his plan, so lovelorn.
                                                              
He only met her once,
But it changed his life,
And it changed his type,
And it changed his mind,
And he threw it all up,
As if he'd gone insane,
And he took to the streets,
And another man was born.
                                                              
They say love comes but once
For some, but when it does,
It's like a mighty
Atom bomb inside,
A disease that seizes
A gentle soul,
And if it comes for you,
You'd better try to hide.
                                                              
From morn to friendless night,
He tramps the streets
Just in case he might
Come across her, he's a tragic sight,
But he doesn't care,
Love gives him might,
He haunts the cafes and the discos
And the bars, so lovelorn.

I go back, though
Sometimes it’s filled with pain,
I go back, ’cos
Nothing will be the same,
Precious places
I first knew,
When life and youth
And love were new,
I flow back, and
Memories flow back too.

O how
Ruefully I pine
For mi pueblito perdido,
What I wouldn’t give,
To be young again,
And happy as I was back then.

Maria, full of peace,
Do you remember
Francis Albert softly keening
O Amor Em Paz,
And other songs by Jobim,
Happy as you were back then?

O for
That wide-eyed
Impression of yours,
Paquita (la de Murcia),
Of your beloved Mary Lyn,
Happy as you were back then.

O how
Ruefully I pine
For mi pueblito perdido,
What I wouldn’t give,
To be young again,
And happy as I was back then.

my life story
is littered
with the ghosts
of golden
opportunities gone.

One day I'd like to go
In search of my past,
Of all the memories
Of my youth.
I cry for all my souvenirs,
And I dream of a future,

Where I can atone
For all the follies
Of my existence,
And where I might
Contemplate my past
In peace at long last.

My travels start
Right here
Deep in my mind
My travels take me just where
I please I don't have
To leave my warm room

My travels start
Sixteen sun
Beating down
Sinatra's crooning Jobim
And I'm just dreaming of my
Great romance to come

I don't need a little ticket
Tells me I can take the train
I don't even to risk it
There's no blistering sun
Or driving rain
And it's here that I remain

My travels end
With a sweet
And peaceful time
I've found such sense deep within
No more will I feel
The need to go travelling again.

The legs started going,
Howlings
In my head.
Thought I'd go,
Kept awake with water,
Breathing,
Arrogantly telling myself
I'd stay straight.
Drank gin and wine,
Went out,
Tried to buy more,
Unshaven,
Filthy white shorts,
Lost, rolling on lawn,
Somehow got home.
Monday, waiting for offie,
Looked like death,
Fear in eyes
Of passers-by,
Waiting for drink,
Drink relieved me.
Drank all day,
Collapsed, wept;
"Don't Die on Me."
Next day,
Double brandy
Just about settled me,
Drank some more,
Thought constantly
I'd collapse;
Then what?
Fit? Coronary?
Insanity? Worse?
Took a Heminevrin,
Paced the house
All night,
Pain in chest,
Weak legs,
Lack of feeling
In extremities,
Visions of darkness.
Drank water
To keep the
Life functions going,
Played devotional music,
Dedicated my life
To God,
Prayed constantly,
Renounced evil.
Next day,
Two Valiums
Helped me sleep.
By eve,
I started to feel better.
Suddenly,
All is clearer,
Taste, sounds,
I feel human again.
I made my choice,
And oblivion has receded,
And shall disappear.

Oh! With what unspeakable anguish
Do I regret the vocation
I came so close
And so oft to having
The sweet acclamation
That might have been mine.

Had I tried and failed,
That would scarcely concern me,
Yet, I squandered my resources
Time and time again,
And failed so unnecessarily,
That is what so torments me.

I only wish I could contemplate
More than a mere handful
Of past achievements with pride
And satisfaction,
But even this paltry compensation,
Remains stubbornly beyond me.

Oh! With what unspeakable anguish
Do I regret the vocation
I came so close
And so oft to having
The sweet acclamation
That might have been mine.

I’m so sorry, my beloved old friend,
I didn’t even know you had gone,
That you had left us very suddenly,
Some twenty years ago last February,
Please forgive me, my beloved old friend,

For failing to see you more frequently,
For I might have provided some comforting,
Even lessened your terrible suffering,
But I only found out recently,
Please forgive me, my beloved old friend.

I was happy,
TV nightly,
As a family,

Simple pleasures,
Any Umbrellas,
Family holidays,

I was happy,
Perhaps the world was happy,
Or happier at least.

Oh, at long last
I’ve found you,
Only the news
Ain’t so good,
Seems you found love,
You seem happy,
And so fulfilled,
But did I think that
You’d be lonely
For all those years?
Oh, what was I
Looking for?
You tried so hard,
But I never thawed,
Seems you found love,
I’m so unhappy,
Cos I never knew
What I found and,
What I lost and,
How much I’d miss you.

Babe, where's your smile,
Don't be a melancholy child,
Can't you see
That the summer's come?
                                                                    
Stuck in your room
With your winter curtains drawn,
While the suburbs
Are all bathed in sun.
                                                                    
No more winter time lows,
Only joy now because
We can shake off the blues,
Love, there's no time to lose.
                                                                    
We can go for a cruise
Down the Thames
Or down the Ouse,
Or just snooze under summer's sun,
                                                                    
Find a village green,
Watch some cricket,
Take some tea, as you please,
Summer's made for fun.
                                                                    
Get some sweet summer air,
Feel the breeze in your hair,
Forget that sad old affair,
He's not worth all the tears.
                                                                    
Babe, where's your smile,
Don't be a melancholy child,
Can't you see
That the summer's come?

I was sad today;
Because you begged me
To think of your good points,
And I never told you any.

Rest assured there are many,
Very many, I would have liked
To have told you them
There and then.

I tell you so much about my past,
Quite a lot of which is conflictive,
As if several mes
Were struggling for supremacy.

Much of the time,
There was a pretty normal me;
Oh don't get me wrong,
I was always an attention-seeker,

But I really do genuinely struggle
To make sense,
I really do genuinely struggle
To make sense of me in the past.

It was she, bless her,
who followed me...
she’d been crying...
she’s too good for me,
that’s for sure...
“Your friends
are too good to you...
it makes me sick
to see them...
you don’t really give...
you indulge in conversation,
but your mind
is always elsewhere,
ticking over.
You could hurt me,
you know...
You are a Don Juan,
so much.
Like him, you have
no desires...
I think you have
deep fears...
There’s something so...so...
in your look.
It’s not that
you’re empty...
but that there is
an omnipresent sadness
about you, a fatality...”

I'm a restless man
I am never
Still
I'm always spurred on
By some perverse
Will
The grass is never
Green
No peace here
To find
Some demon
Of motion's
At work within my
Mind
No bed is too soft
That I won't
Abandon
Its sweet calm
And comfort
For a softer
One
I'm a restless man
I am never
Still
I'm always spurred on
By some perverse will.

"Temper your enthusiasm,"
She said,
"The extremes of your reactions;
You should have
A more conventional frame
On which to hang
Your unconventionality."
"Don't push people,"
She said,
"You make yourself vulnerable."

She told me not to rhapsodise,
That it would be difficult,
Impossible, perhaps,
For me to harness my dynamism.
The tone of my work,
She said,
Is often a little dubious.
She said
She thought
That there was something wrong.

That I'm hiding
Some sad
Dark secret from the world.
"Temper your enthusiasm,"
She said,
"The extremes of your reactions;
You should have
A more conventional frame
On which to hang
Your unconventionality."

Dear one, what did you say?
A dining hall, a distant day,
It seems it was time
For goodbye,
Speaking of my eyes,
‘They shine so bright’,
Words said (or words of this kind),

If this was true and that they did,
Because of feelings that I hid,
I must have longed
For you to stay,
But I didn’t beg you, ‘please don’t leave!’
I must have seemed so cavalier,
And something precious had to fade.

Soon, I’ll sleep again,
I will feel no pain,

For a little time,
Peace will be all mine.

My mind will seek
Freedom from the past,

I’ll be carefree,
Although it will not last.

Soon, I’ll sleep again,
I will feel no pain.

Soon, I’ll sleep again,
And I will feel no pain,
For a little time,
Peace will be all mine,
My mind will seek
Freedom from the past,
And I’ll be carefree,
Although it will not last.

Another me
There was another me
But not the better me,
But so carefree,

A better me,
That’s who I am today,
So secluded that I may be
A better me,

I brought
Happy go lucky joy,
To many,
You might say I was a golden boy,

A better me,
That’s who I am today,
So secluded that I may be,
A better me,

I can’t be the madcap
I used to be,
Simply,
I would not wish to be,

A better me,
That’s who I am today,
So secluded that I may be,
A better me.