The Distance (song)

words and music: Larry Nicholson
guitar and vocal: Larry
guitar: Brett Richardson
(recorded in-studio with Jean Ardilla at Co-op radio)


walk down Pacific Boulevard
the Indian man he sat alone, he played guitar
sat conjuring people and places that he'll never see
(he said) i'm not old but i ain't young no more
i never see the faces of the ones i did before
there's been a journey in my heart full of dark mystery
and it ends somewhere in the distance

I find it sad what some find funny
sometimes making love's like making money
there's no room for men and women in the bottom line
is there still a place for sacred things?
worth more than all the fool's gold, the diamond rings?
is it here?...is it now?...do we all shine?

Sarah sang her gentle song for you and i
that sound across these distant waters, the forever sky
she went home she left our hearts opened wide
hey little sister can you ride the wind?
up around that big old painted moon, back down again
if there’s a memory left behind
i'll meet you there...in the distance

is there nothing left to do? is there nothing left to say?
you can see the bridges burning, we may have wanted it that way
there's a silence lives between us, it's what we build, it's what we make
it's what we take...into the distance

sleep tight my pretty lady, the moon is almost on the rise
when the ghosts have left the room i'll look into those eyes
i'll pretend i'm there and i'll wait
guess i'm just a dusty dreamer in this world that makes you tough
there’s still a chance for poets and runaways if we want it bad enough
to live enchanted in the earth, in the torment
in your eyes...and every instance

are we true just like a northern star?
or like the Indian man whose home is his guitar?
is there something in this night for you and me?
like ragged crows that fill the skies at night down in the eastside part of town
we're all still someone's sons and daughters
never knowing where we're bound
like the turning of the leaves we're all lost and then we're found
one by one we'll fly away...

© 2009 Champsteen Publishing