SOME OTHER TIME (©Words and music by Paul F. Cowlan)

A club in Oslo. July1984. Life’s lessons have to be constantly relearned.

Go on, dance with her. Can’t you see she has her pride,
and deep down inside she’s lonely tonight.
She’s even asked, but you just turned aside.
What makes you think you have the right
to forget that life is short and often sad,
and it’s not too much to ask
that you come down off your high horse and say,
“Yes, of course. Though I won’t be staying long.”

Alright, she’s not a queen,
and she may not seem to be all you might desire.
I suppose you think that you’re too good
and dancing with her would in some way cramp your style.

Don’t you remember how you have been lonely too?
The least you could do would be to give her a smile.
And it’s no good simply wishing she knew
that you are really not so bad, while you sit there
like an icon on a wall, and as distant as a star.
That isn’t going to help her much,
when a better thing by far
would be simply to be kind.

You don’t have to stay all night,
or hold her tight, or whisper in her ear;
but it’s surely high time that you learned
it doesn’t hurt to be concerned once in every while.

You stand up and smile, you walk towards the door.
She’s not looking any more, she’s taken out a cigarette.
Her lighter’s slow, and as you turn to go
you feel the stirrings of regret
that you failed to just relax, and to respond
like anyone would do.
You’ve got a lot to learn, and you’re slow at learning too.
Perhaps some other time.

But the moment’s gone. You missed your chance.
It may not come again some other time.