DANGEROUS AGE (© Words and Music by Paul F. Cowlan )
Sauda, on the west coast of Norway, where I was warned by the management that the audience would throw bottles if they didnt like the music. It wasnt only your age that might prove dangerous.
She laughs and tosses her hair back,
lets her eyes wander, and smiles to herself.
She needs no second opinion,
just that one glance round at everyone else.
Then smiling, and feigning indifference,
she turns her face up to the stage
where she lets it remain,
and to keep myself sane I think,
“What a dangerous age!”
Sometimes she watches me,
sometimes shes miles away, and quite unconcerned.
Is that the poise she was born with,
or is it some beautiful game that shes learned?
I pretend that I still havent seen her,
but really Im trying to gauge just what shes about,
but what isnt in doubt is that shes at a dangerous age.
And what do I know of her
making me go over questions like these all the time?
What makes it so cruel is shell still be at school,
and she could be a daughter of mine.
She waits till Im passing her table,
then she beckons, and asks me to come and sit down.
We talk about dreams and The Tarot,
and she tells me something of what she has found
to be true in her stars and her fortune,
quoting me page after page from the books that shes read,
but I'm thinking instead, “What a dangerous age!”
She knows where Im living,
but still isnt giving the half her intentions away.
I suspect what she needs is a mirror, not me,
but it isnt my business to say.
Its late, the tables are empty,
so I take my guitar, and we both say goodbye;
but just after two I am woken again
by a knock on the door, and shes standing outside.
The tears in her eyes make me wonder
“Is she here to engage in regrets or romance?
Or to just take a chance with love at the dangerous age?”
So I lend her my shoulder to cry on,
and she opens her heart until well after four.
She tells me that I understand her,
but she doesnt know what to believe any more.
Then she sleeps in my arms till the morning,
and watching her, I gently rage against Fortune and Fate;
she was born just too late
and shes still at a dangerous age.
We're still at that dangerous age.