...THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE... (I HOPE...) THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE... (I HOPE...) THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE... (I HOPE...) THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE...
THE  EARLY YEARS

(WORDS NOT LOST ALONG THE WAY)

and this epitaph to a soldier
draws to a close
one thing must be made
very clear

of the life and the times
of the silent repose
and the horrors retold
of the year

the confidence gained
and the lessons I've learned
almost makes is all worthwhile

I'll have to admit
that to get through it all
I had to develop a style

and the things I have learned
are the thngs you don't tell
to your children about this sick world

of the men and their lies
their fears and contradictions
and those who live with their fingers curled

the tension and pain of this
life in this world and
the price of our high society

to give up our freedom and honesty
to lie just to prove
to the world we are free

so I just go on singing
I am the lonely roamer
moving from town to town

and what makes life worth it
to put up or shut up
is all of the friends I've found

from Boston to Denver
New York to Monterey
regardless of where I roam

with just one friend there
and some time to be shared
I can call this body my home




New York to Monterey
(Epitaph to a Soldier)

Ric Candor  ©1976, 2000


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