Lyrics

ON THE EVENING TIDE
©Tom Richardson, All Rights Reserved

There’s a mansion on a mountain
Looking down upon the sea
An old man there with a spyglass, is
Counting waves aimlessly.

On a canvas he is painting
Painting faces he has known
Faces of the friends and lovers
Who left him here to paint alone.

And there’s a part of every man up on that hill
And even if you see me there . . .
I will be quayside when you sail
On the even’ tide.

A photo album with the pictures
Of a young and dashing man
With the talent and potential
All he needed was a plan.

Here he’s standing on the summit
Here he’s perched upon the bow
He’s the picture of perfection
Even with his furrowed brow.

There’s an image of every man there on that page.
And even if you see me there . . .
I will be quayside when you sail
On the even’ tide.

A perfect time and a perfect place, they all pass on
Perfection often is not known, until it’s gone
And even if I’m trying to hold on . . .

There’s a mansion on a mountain
Looking down upon the sea
And old man there with a spyglass, is
Counting waves aimlessly.

And there’s a part of every man up on that hill
And even if you see me there.
I will be quayside when you sail
On the even’ tide.
I will be quayside when you sail
On the even’ tide, on the even’ tide, on the even’ tide.