David Harley Words & Music

The oldest of my songs that I still perform.

Backup:

Rain, the gentle rain that hung upon the grass
The autumn rain that touched the fields so early
When the summer sun returns, will you hold me in your arms
Once again, among the fields of golden barley?

Summer was a burning wind that raised a bitter crop
That came and went so quickly and unfairly
Then the autumn rain put a rust upon my heart, left alone
Among the fields of golden barley

A pale song, a sad song to hold within my mind
A bitter song of summer love gone from me
Such a pale song, a sad song to hold within my mind
Left alone among the fields of golden barley

Rain, the gentle rain that hung upon the grass
The autumn rain that touched the fields so early
When the summer sun returns, will you hold me in your arms
Once again, among the fields of golden barley?

Backup:

A trace of your scent still lingers on my pillow
And raises echoes in my memory
And I believe you’re missing me almost as much as I miss you
But I wish to God you could be here with me

The sun will surely rise on another soft blue morning
And lying in your arms is where I’ll be
With sweet dreams still in my eyes I’ll wake and kiss your hair
But it’s a long, cold night while you’re not here with me

This guitar once played for keeps, but since you changed my life
This guitar just plays for you, if that’s OK?
This guitar rang bells for losers, but there’ll be no more songs of losing
Though this guitar just plays the blues while you’re away

A farewell of sorts to my brief career as a full-time musician in the 1970s, which was even less glamorous than this song might suggest.

Backup:

Got a seat facing the engine
So I don’t have to face where I’ve been
Luggage on the rack, no reason to look back
At all my wrecked and reckless gypsy dreams
No more bright lights, no more white lines
Or crashing in the back of the van
No more hustling small-time gigs
I guess time has beaten the band

No more deadlines, no more breadlines
Mr 10%, you’re on your own
No more fine print, no more backstage blues

This rolling stone is rolling home
Got a ticket to take me to tomorrow
It can’t be worse than today
So driver, take me home and don’t spare the horsepower
I’m on a ten year holiday
No more missed chances and chickens*t advances
Cold chips in the back of the van
No more blown tires and fuses, no more broken promises
Time has beaten the band

No more deadlines, no more breadlines
Mr 10%, you’re on your own
No more fine print, no more backstage blues
This rolling stone is rolling home

No more spotlights, no more ups and downers
Absolutely no stage fright
No more superstar fantasies
From today I’m strictly 9-5
No more infighting, no more moonlighting
No more one-night stands
All along while the band was beating time
I guess time was beating the band

No more deadlines, no more breadlines
Mr 10%, you’re on your own
No more fine print, no more backstage blues
This rolling stone is rolling home