Thomas Anderson

singer, songwriter, rock 'n' roller


by Thomas Anderson

from the album The Debris Field

In a room across the sea,

The sea of memories,

I burned the midnight oil

Until the dawn.

I would write and I would read

Until the words were floating free --

Hamlet, Falstaff, Lear and Cymbeline.

And the worst thing I would fear

Was to fail before my peers,

Much ado about nothing

It seems today.

And those days stretched out ahead,

No shadow and no dread,

No curse upon the land

For anyone.

For the things that don't get done

In the days when you are young,

There'll be tomorrow

And every day beyond.

Can you even conceive

In the turning of the leaves,

The wealth of time just scattered

At our feet.

And the Juliets we knew,

Not well enough it's true,

The balconies

And one more for the road.

And when I was just nineteen

And reading Cymbeline

In the previous time

Of throwing time away.

Cymbeline, Cymbeline,

For the previous days

Of reading Cymbeline;

I will raise a glass to you,

Will you raise a glass to me

And to the long lost days

Of reading Cymbeline.

And if you saw me then you'd smile,

So bewildered and so beguiled,

So lovestruck, so tragic,

In my dreams.

But what do they have to say-

Yesterday to today,

Like strangers they just pass

And walk away.

Fear no more the heat of sun,

Thou thy worldly task has done;

Golden lads and girls,

All must come.

Fear no more the lightning flash,

Quiet summation have

In the memories

Of reading Cymbeline.