WRITER IN THE SUN

Donovan


The days of wine and roses are distant days for me

I dream of the last and the next affair and of little girls

I’ll never see

And here I sit the retired writer in the sun

The retired writer in the sun, and I’m

Blue, the retired writer in the sun

Tonight I trod in starlight. I excuse myself with a grin

I ponder the moon in a silver spoon and the little one alive

within.

And here I sit the retired writer in the sun

The retired writer in the sun, and I’m

Blue, the retired writer in the sun

The magazine girl poses on my glossy paper aeroplane

Too many years I spent in the city playing with Mister Loss

and Gain.

And here I sit the retired writer in the sun

The retired writer in the sun, and I’m

Blue, the retired writer in the sun

I bathe in the sun of the morning, lemon circles swim in the

tea

Fishing for time with a wishing line and throwing it back in

the sea. C

And here I sit the retired writer in the sun

The retired writer in the sun, and I’m

Blue, the retired writer in the sun


Transcribed by Stephen Sander