Richard at Sixty

G Started one night with a call from a dorm room, G Nothing much special back then, C Hard to imagine that dialing that number G Would turn into decades, my friend. Am7 Bm7 Who could have known, Am7 G Who could have known.

G Later we spread out the charts on the table, G Pencils and patterns to read, C Certain that gold by the turn of the century G Would do exactly as we believed. Am7 Bm7 The charts said it all, Am7 G Or so we thought.

G Charts, charts on the table, G I've watched you rise and then fall, C You taught me the patience of waiting G And that none of us masters it all. Am7 Bm7 Markets roll in, Am7 G Then roll away.

G We had our wonderfully terrible notions, G Ideas too strange to be true, C Like that Soul Consignment Store we imagined G Where someone could sell off a few. Am7 Bm7 Never meant to last, Am7 G Never meant to last.

G Then there were nights down at Gabby's, G Paul Metsa somewhere in the air, C And Mark Edwardson reappearing again G Like fate parked him quietly there. Am7 Bm7 Time well spent, Am7 G Time well spent.