"Who the hell would want to be a songwriter?"
I asked my friend Lloyd from time to time.
"You and me," he replied. "It's just something inside:
Finding some truth in a line,
Then searching all night for the rhyme."
There's a fine line between sentimental
And that which is heartfelt and true,
But if you cut me some slack, I'll take a crack
At writing a few lines for you
These days that's the best I can do.
And the world gets a lift when you practice your gifts:
Each heart knows the courage of song.
And we'll not replace the love and the grace
That lives in a songwriter's song
It gives you strength to just keep keeping on.
Had me a birthday at the old Tranzac Club:
It was a hell of a musical ride,
And if the way it all ends is a room full of friends
Singing with hearts open wide
That's a fine way of saying goodbye.
There's a hole in the ocean, there's a hole in the sky,
There's a hole in this song I can't write,
There's a chorus and verse and a terrible thirst
Burning deep down inside
Can't seem to quench it tonight.
So mark this, because I'm going to tell you:
Too brief is the love that we share.
I'll remember a friend in the way a song ends
And hangs one last note in the air
That way you'll always be there.
And the lifers won't quit 'til they cash in their chips:
We keep betting on the love of this game.
And the dreams we all chase, full of love, full of grace,
Deal less with fortune or fame
Than the way that a friend speaks your name.