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

The official word for it is ‘climacteric’, a taxing time of crisis and change occurring between the ages of  forty-five and sixty. I was only thirty-five when I wrote this, so perhaps it was just a trial-run.


Change is never easy.
I’ve heard it said before.
It could be for the better,
but you never can be sure;
and I really want to make it this time.
Yes, I really want to make it this time.

Something’s moving.
I can’t trace it.
I don’t want no mistakes.
No-one said it would be easy,
but you don’t always get the breaks.
And I really want to make it this time.
Yes, I really want to make it this time.

I would not have it different. I’d do it all again,
even though the chances are less than one in ten;
and I’ve felt this way about it since I don’t remember when.
It’s the journey that’s important, and not the journey’s end.

When I look back to the old times
it seems I’ve got so tame,
and the things that I believed in,
they don’t look the same.
But I really want to make it this time.
Yes, I really want to make it this time.

Heaven knows, you have to change to grow,
but these changes bother me.

There are names I don’t remember
and dreams I don’t recall.
It sometimes makes me wonder
what happened to them all.
The highway is too long
and the mountain is too tall;
but I try not to look down,
it’s a long, long way to fall.

I know I’m going to make it this time.
Yes, I know I’m going to make it this time.