Transatlantic Trauma 1966

Hello there! Well everything's fine

I got your letter, did you get mine?

I'm pleased to hear you're working again

Up at six and to bed at ten

But oh, there's so many things I know

That I just can't write

Like how you feel in the night

(Wish I could)



The weather's bad, well that's nothing new

I hear the heat's on, now is that true?

I'm writing from Boston and Chad is uptight

I broke two strings on stage last night

But I don't really want to know about the London scene

That sort of chat just leaves me flat



I miss you so much, what more can I say

In two or three pages? I hate it this way

It's such an impossible strain

Corny old phrases repeated again

It's a game that we play



Well I must go, I really must fly

I'll send you some albums, at least I'll try

If everything's cool, I'll see you quite soon

Maybe July or possibly June

But though I want you here, I know

That that might blow the dream

You see, I'm scared to pay the fare

Goodbye for now