Bob: JD was a crusty cowboy whose machismo rivalled Steve McQueen, Harrison Ford and Jack Nicholson. David Geffen and I thought if we could get him in the, as yet unnamed, Eagles, they would be bigger than The Beatles.
We rented the Troubadour during the day for a week and the five of them rehearsed. By Friday afternoon it was all over, maybe Don Henley could tell you why. Eve Babitz took a photo of the assemblage behind the club, but I've never been able to find it online.
JD Souther was my friend and a superstar, but you had to be close to see the brightness of his light. We will forever bear the weight of his absence. Thank you for this fitting tribute to one of the greats.
As ever, Hartmann
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Thank you for that thoughtful piece, which captured a lot of what JD Souther was about. Without question, he was one of the important figures in the creation and development of California Country Rock, a style of music that inarguably dominated the American music scene in the 1970s. I met him and Glenn after a Longbranch-Pennywhistle set at the Troubadour in 1970, and I remember that when I found out he was from the Texas panhandle, we immediately got into a mutual love fest over Underwood's Texas Barbecue, a famous place on Route 66 in Amarillo well known to every road musician.
There is one word I'd like to add to this and that is "collaborator." JD was masterful at this in two ways: first off, he could get stuck on writing a song, like he did with "New Kid in Town," and have the understanding to go to Don and Glenn to help him finish it, along with enough wisdom to recognize what their contribution brought to the work. But for me, one of his most unsung talents was his amazing harmony singing.
The harmony part he came up with on Linda's version of "Faithless Love" is not only pleasing to the ear, but from a musical perspective it is utterly original. As a musician, I listen to that part and I have no idea how he came up with it, only that it works superbly. I urge you to listen to it now and compare it to the more standard, Everly Brothers style two-part.
All of us in our little community are deeply saddened by this sudden loss. I will miss JD and our fifty-year friendship more than I can say.
Best,
John Boylan
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In my early teens J.D. Souther was one of the first people that I became aware of that was this thing called a “songwriter”. Seeing his name peppered across Eagles credits on album jackets and connecting the dots that painted an intriguing picture: a disproportionate number of the best Eagles songs had his name on them.
I stayed with him through the Souther, Hillman Furay debacle. I think your analysis of why they failed is right, though at the time and as a fan I also thought I could intuitively sense that they were “put together” by corporate interests, not that there is anything necessarily wrong with that - when it doesn’t show through!
In the early ‘90s when he sold his catalog to EMI publishing I had the great fortune to be in a few meetings with him, and probably annoyed him with all my questions. My favorite moment was when I said “given all your relationships with the Eagles and their extended community before the band was formed, all your extensive co-writing, and the rumour (that he confirmed) that you had actually jammed with them one day as a prospective member, why WEREN’T you a member? His response was to look me up and down with a bit of world weary disgust/contempt, and he said in a dead pan manner “I’m not a BAND kind of guy”. Point taken!
Michael McCarty
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I found JD to be a gem. I'd always loved his songs, and when he played the Dakota (Minneapolis) or MIM (Phoenix), he was personable and focused. Tuned in and a little shy. He told me one night how much he loved Nellie McKay and would love to sing with her. I called Nellie and they did a couple of nights together at the Dakota. The apparent ingenue with an incisive edge and the grizzled master with an open heart made for delicious nights of music. JD wanted to do more dates, but Nellie's not into touring. He had dates planned this winter with Karla Bonoff, another one of our songwriting masters and I'll never get to hear them. I'm really sorry he's gone.
Thanks for the great article.
Lowell Pickett
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Oh no! So shocked and sorry to hear about JD Souther passing on. These days (to use a poignant Jackson Browne title that takes on even deeper meaning nowadays) when I read your epistles of sanity in a world gone mad, you often open by mentioning someone in the past tense (was vs. is) and at that moment my heart jumps into my throat and I Google to see if he or she is still among the living. But undeniably the actors who played major roles in the golden age of rock are leaving the stage one by one …
JD epitomised LA cool at an extraordinary moment which lasted less then a decade, when rock, country, counter-culture and unbelievable f*cking musicianship emerged innocent, energised and undiluted in the City of Angels. Then the cocaine epidemic hit but that’s another story. JD and I played a show together at Kent State in the mid 70’s (yes, the "four dead in Ohio" college) which was spooky in itself and spent a long after show talking about F. Scott Fitzgerald. Always hoped I’d see him again down the road … alas.
From Paris,
Elliott Murphy
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Years ago, I was asked to perform my songs as part of a songwriter in the round
at the HBO offices. I said yes without knowing who else was going to be there. On the day of the event, I showed up with my mandolin and found out. On stage to my right was Rosanne Cash, to her right was Dave Stewart (of the Eurythmics) and to his right was J.D. Souther. Songs were sung, stories were told. It was an honor to be a part of it all.
I was shocked to hear about Souther. His songs will forever stand the test of time.
Marvin Etzioni
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Thank you for your lovely words about JD Souther. One more from the Front Line Files circa 1984: as an assistant, we often got random requests from the artists, and one day JD’s beautiful girlfriend cut her hand badly and they went to the ER. He called the office and asked for assistant support so Howard Kaufman sent me. While we were waiting, he talked about his growing up, his dad (who also sang; sometime later JD played me the LP of his dad singing “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”) , and his music. Pretty sure he was just a bit anxious;)
The thing I clearly remember was JD talking about the difference between Don Henley and himself. He loved that Don was relentless in pursuit of perfection but for himself, he always wanted to tweak things for a little flaw. Always reminds me of Leonard Cohen’s ANTHEM “…there’s a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in…”.
Love that JD was going out with Karla Bonoff later this month. Rest well, John David.
Love,
Robin Ruse-Rinehart
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Thank you so much for this beautiful tribute. I especially appreciate the quoted lyrics. He is unmatched.
Johanna Hall
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Great piece on J.D. I produced several shows beginning in the mid-eighties that featured him.
We hung out quite a few times and had mutual friends.
Very brilliant man, an intellectual. His writing was as good as it gets and that voice! One of the most special and inimitable voices ever heard. Better than anyone in the Eagles I think.
The last time I saw him was at the Bluebird Cafe playing an intimate show. Even in his seventies his voice hadn't lost a thing. He told me he had just bought a farm in Franklin.
So saddened to hear of his passing. We are losing the greatest generation of singer-songwriters. :(
Jack Hayford
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Back when he was still a student at Tacosa High School in Amarillo, J.D. Souther (along with the rest of Sammy & The Emeralds - J.D. was the drummer) cut his first ever record - “Miss Tiny Tears” b/w “Oh, Am I Blue” at Norman Petty Studios in Clovis.
Vince Welsh
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Hey Bob, I was lucky enough to manage JD, a couple of times. But I was lucky to have as a friend. He lived every word that he wrote. He had an unmatched sense of humor, and he could find fun anywhere. Everything you said is true. But fame was never what he was looking for, it was always the next great lyric. He seemed to always find it. But now he’s gone, in life goes on. Thanks for this amazing tribute for my dear friend.
David Spero
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Thanks for the heads up Bob. I was fortunate to catch him live - with Jackson at the Cellar Door in 1972 and later with Richie and Chris Hillman. A great talent.
David Murphy
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Interviewed JD on the phone (he couldn’t have been any nicer) and met him when he played in Birmingham shortly thereafter. He was gracious to his fans and was available for photo ops and autographs after the show. Another great one from this generation that has left us - thanks for your tribute to him.
Brent Thompson
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Still have all his LPs, as in vinyl. I caught JD many times when he came East...last time maybe a dozen years ago...(ya know time slips away and levis with nothing but boring stories of glory days, right?) Up in Torrington CT...your home state...Anyway he couldn't have been nicer...and all those songs...
Chip Lovitt
I loved this JD Souther song from the instant I saw the song title...this was the demo before JD speeded up his song for his first LP. What a great song...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=0MvswJ2glyo ______________________________________
He was my neighbor in New Mexico. Kept
To himself but a good neighbor. I knew of his passing but couldn’t say anything to friends because of privacy. Was good to me. Will be missed for sure.
tjlambert
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I so appreciate every word that you wrote on this email. I connected about four dozen times. He was the reason I wanted to get to California as fast as I could! JD Souther!!
He is still my favorite single writer.
I just played "Silver Blue" last week for some reason...
Now I know why...
Steven McClintock
37 Records
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Total bummer. His songs were on the musical tree of life.
Rest in peace.
Will Eggleston
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He was a monster writer singer and influence. Plus he was so super cool and mysterious and sexy! Just a quiet GIANT. RIP. Thx for this Bob.
Peter van Roden
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Wonderful tribute to a treasure: a one of a kind poet & singer & presence. Viva “Black Rose.”
Walt Wilkins
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OMG. I'm really bummed. Had tickets to see him at the Musical Instrument Museum in Scottsdale Tuesday night with Karla Bonoff.
So many deaths the last few years. So sad
May he rest in peace
Randy Schaaf
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Aw, damn. RIP.
I haven't read your piece yet, but I met JD at one of our record store conventions a decade or so back. He did a songwriters' roundtable performance with Jill Sobule and, I believe, Ray Lamontagne. I spoke to JD after as I was such a Zevon fan, and he was very lovely and so nice. We talked about the business and my store and Charleston, and he said he'd really like to come to Charleston some time and see the store, meanwhile his manager is trying to get him out of there, yeah yeah we'll look at going to Charleston, come on, we have places to go. Seemed like his focus was wont to stray from time to time. Anyway I won't soon forget that meeting. Good guy.
catmonster
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Lovely tribute. Another musical hero gone too soon.
Her Town Too, and New Kid In Town will always be my favorite songs that JD lent his talents to. As for Black Rose…what a record! If You Have Crying Eyes…with that INCREDIBLE duet/harmony exchange with Linda. Stunning. And Joe Walsh’s guitar on Baby Come Home is unmistakable.
I finally got to see him perform solo at City Winery a decade or so ago and he totally delivered! New Kid in Town was raw and tender at the same time…trademark JD Souther.
Marc Reiter
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Your writing is wonderful. Thank you for this moving and thoughtful piece on an artist who has profoundly resonated with me over the course of my musical life.
I was born too late for the Canyon scene, the solo albums, or the Souther Hillman Furay records. I’m unsure I can pinpoint when I heard J.D.’s work, but Black Rose is an all-time favorite. Not a bad song on it. And my god, that last song, the harmonies, the playing.… the spacing between left and right channel. The sense of a proto Hotel California. Predicting the death of a scene before the Eagles got there. That song that album activated a lifelong love with that era and the more cerebral enclaves of the Canyon. (I put fellow Asylum artist Ned Doheny in that category too).
I saw J.D. play in London and New York. Each time, he was erudite and incredibly chic (for a boomer rock star). He had stripped the essence of these songs down to their most elemental, full of vim, arrogance, and frailty. What a performance, what a writer, what an artist.
Thank you.
James Denman
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One of the best concerts I ever attended was JD’s solo show. Unbelievable. That man can sing and is hella funny.
Mimi Chen
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Very nice Bob. Thanks for this. Such a good guy and he was so crazy talented.
Jeff Pollack
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Thank you Bob. I have felt off all day after learning that J.D. has passed.
Much like Dan Fogelberg I heard the second record first and went back and then got the first one, but you are so right about Black Rose being a masterpiece.
I have played that record from start to finish an embarrassing amount of times since it’s nearly 50 years ago release, often making my musician pals who are not familiar with it sit still for all 40 minutes.
I was learning guitar in the early 70s and had graduated from Neil Young songs to James and Fogelberg and when I heard Black Rose and the opening chord to Doors Swing Open, it was like a whole new box of paints had opened up.
And that voice, and the lyrics that made it impossible to pin down a writing style.
Midnight Prowl w/ Lowell George!
As I dug deeper, I focused on how he sang harmony weaving in and out of the melody with Linda on her versions of his songs, almost as if he was creating a whole separate melody while still supporting the lead vocal.
I met him briefly in Austin at the Cactus Café one afternoon and like many of my hero singer / songwriters he was polite and friendly to me.
Thanks for what you do Bob. There’s music and there’s the music business and I often feel like you help folks see that though they are deeply connected, they are also separate and very different.
Peace.
Michael Lille
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John David Souther, in many ways, was the quintessential 70’s male role model for me. He, along with Jackson Browne, Dan Fogelberg and Don Henley, taught me everything I know about love and relationships and how a man handles those things and more.
His songs were chock full of the ache and longing that comes with daring to love and be loved. I listened to them over and over, feeling what Fogelberg called “that old familiar pain.” In the thrall of that music, I would imagine myself in a love affair that elicits that kind of joy and desire, even before I experienced the real thing.
And his songs were so perfectly suited to the voices of the artists who covered them: The Eagles, Jackson Browne, James Taylor and especially - the original Sweetheart of the Rodeo and his once girlfriend - Linda Ronstadt. Her cover of his Faithless Love was so perfect and powerful it would stop you in your tracks. But, all these years later, I find J.D.’s recording every bit as perfect and even more moving with the knowledge that the words and music had eminated from the very same soul singing it to me.
Years after his music captured my heart, I had the opportunity to cast him in a short film I directed called Lonely at the Top. I had directed only one short previously, but he was gracious enough to read my script, watch my film and - miraculously - agree to work with me. He played an unapologetic cut-throat business man, and told me that he “knew this guy.” That proved to be accurate. He electrified every scene of the movie, and was a joy to work with, despite non-existent pay, a meager budget and an exhausting all nighters. We were shooting nights in Mark Platt’s office at Orion, and couldn’t set up until everyone went home, and then had to clean up and be out the door before the studio geared up the next morning. He never complained once, and had a great sense of humor throughout.
We grew to be friends through that experience, and while we didn’t stay in close touch in the intervening years, I would run into him from time to time. He was always gracious, warm and affectionate, in a manner that belied his status as rock ‘n’ roll royalty.
When I heard he had left us, I immediately threw Black Rose on the turntable. The whole album is exquisite, but one line from Faithless Love always thrills me and exemplifies the sheer poetry of his songwriting and the understate power of his voice.
“Faithless love like a river flows
Like raindrops falling on a broken rose
Down in some valley where nobody goes
Faithless love has found me
Thrown its chilly arms around me
Faithless love, like a river flows.“
Godspeed J.D., you cowboy poet. You have carved yourself an indelible place in the universe.
Marc A. Von Arx
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In early 2010, Nashville based producer Fred Mollin and I were mastering the first of two albums of duet performances of classic songs by the great Jimmy Webb, for what was then eOne Music. We enjoyed working together on that project and started kicking around ideas for something else to do. Fred mentioned John David Souther as a good bet for an album of his own great hit songs previously recorded (and made famous) by others. I immediately jumped at the chance to work with an artist who I regarded, despite all his success, as still underrated.
Fred and John David didn’t hit it off in the studio right away, but I encouraged them to stay with it and the result was, in my admittedly biased opinion, as good a retrospective of great songs at the source as there is. John David and I became friends, and Natural History got some attention, including an unforgettable live natuon radio appearance on Imus In The Morning. It sold well enough to justify a second album. As John David and I discussed ideas, I became aware of his love for Jazz and the great writers of the American Songbook. He asked me what I’d think if he wanted to record an album of standards and I replied that I would think I was talking to someone who couldn’t write ten more songs. By the time he was ready with them, I had moved over to Sony Masterworks. We enlisted the great Larry Klein to produce, someone both John David and I knew could marry his singer-songwriter core with his late career jazzier inclinations, bringing the latter forward but also keeping them in check with a studio-full of LA’s finest. John David called the album Tenderness, and despite a whole bunch of good reviews, the project was sadly stillborn. I wholeheartedly agree with you that Black Rose is his masterpiece, but I encourage anyone who loved JD and hasn’t heard it to get over to your streamer and spend some time with Tenderness.
I’ve been retired for a good while now but I still talked to John David every year on his birthday. He always reminded me of a character out of a Ross MacDonald Southern California detective novel: a little hard bitten and cynical on the outside, a true romantic at his core, and so tremendously gifted in expressing and reconciling both sides in great and timeless songs. I remain absorbed with all of his work and am so grateful I got the chance to know him, befriend him, and release his last recordings. His loss hits me hard.
All the best,
Chuck Mitchell
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From: Brad Talley
Bob -
You and I met in the summer of 2011, during the weekend of Carmageddon. We had invited you to McCabe’s for one of JD’s two-night performances. I was so glad you were able to attend, and I’m happy to know that you and JD continued to stay in touch over the years.
Like John David himself, our relationship was complex. He was a force of nature, capable of sudden, meteoric shifts—sometimes destructive, sometimes breathtakingly beautiful, like a sunset casting a perfect palette of blues, reds, and purples. When I met him, I was a frayed, splintered wooden spoon. Seven years later, he had reshaped me into a finely crafted steak knife.
Watching the show Succession, I often saw shades of Logan Roy in John David. His presence made me nervous, as his boyish grin could suddenly turn mean with the lightning quickness of a snake—and his bite could be just as venomous. But if you were brave enough to look past the delivery, you could find your own truth and growth in his message.
While my partner Edward had the ability and patience to talk him off the ledge, I developed what I called the ‘Lethal Weapon’ management style. Lacking the credentials or status for him to lean into, my only chance to back down the lion was to seem more demonstrative—to give off that ‘you wanna get nuts, let’s get nuts’ energy, hoping the predator would reassess its prey. When I broke, it was as if he’d immediately abandon character, breaking the fourth wall. He’d get quiet, then in a soft voice say, ‘Hey man, you’re freaking me out—I’m the artist, I’m supposed to be the crazy one.’ He often called me *El Sensitivo*, one of several nicknames he coined over the years.
Now, from where I stand in my life, I know what it’s like to build something—and I understand the fear of trusting others with it. He had reluctantly trusted us with his career, and when he saw me pushed to my breaking point, I imagine it reassured him that I truly fought for him.
At our best, our relationship echoed the dynamic between Chris O’Donnell and Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman. He tested my limits, put me in difficult situations—and in doing so, he taught me how to expand into them, not shrink.
We hadn’t spoken in a decade, nearly to the month. When our relationship ended, I declined his calls.
But as the years passed, perception evolved into perspective. I became more grateful for our time together and the impact he had on my life. He opened doors to people, places, and experiences I could never have imagined, and he became the gateway to relationships that remain important to me today. He taught me the power of a good sport coat and well-worn side-zip boots, how to make a martini, and introduced me to quality scotch. I learned that money has its perks, but happiness can still be elusive. We shared a love of dogs, good filmmaking, mischief, and sharp wit. When asked a question outside of business, he’d often say he didn’t want to talk about it—but if you embraced silence at just the right moment, he’d fill it with stories that could make you rich. To this day, I always dress nicely when I fly, no matter the destination. ‘When people see you,’ he’d say, ‘they should know you’re traveling with purpose.’
As his manager, I helped him move mountains. But when the time came for us to simply enjoy being the friends we surely would have been, I found myself out of breath—muscles weak with jitters—and I took the space I needed to rest. Yet, over the years, he was still there for me. When I felt abandoned or misunderstood, I’d often remember something he’d remind me of:
‘When people don’t know what you mean, they may laugh at you and call you green. They’ll say your words are stupid, and your plans are only schemes. The truth is simple, but rarely ever seen.’
I’d sing it quietly in my head, and in doing so, I felt seen, heard, and known.
After COVID, I left the music industry to become a mental health therapist. As it turns out, working in the music industry is mental-health adjacent. I now focus much of my practice on artists and industry professionals. While John David remains nameless, I often tell clients something a wise man once told me: ‘Never agree to anything but flying first class, because if you do, you’ll never fly first class again.’
Of course, they usually stare back at me, confused. I respond with a gentle smirk and say, ‘You see… if you don’t stand up for yourself—your values, your integrity, your relationships, your truth—if you don’t set your own worth, someone else will.’
—
I woke up to the news of his passing on Wednesday morning. I was surprised by how disoriented I felt, as if I’d been ejected from orbit and was now spinning off into space. But when the world loses someone who exerted such gravity in your life, the same physics apply. I found myself unusually quiet, and when I opened my mouth, no words came. I listened to Natural History on repeat throughout the day, and when I went to bed that night, I had a dream. Unlike most dreams, I remember this one in vivid detail.
He was sitting alone at a table in a dimly lit, empty bar—it felt as if it had been created on a soundstage. There was a magenta hue that faded softly into the darkness where perhaps an audience had sat earlier in the evening. An untouched martini sat off to his right. His tie was loosened, draped just below the undone buttons of his blue oxford shirt. His suit was a darker shade of gray than usual. When he saw me, he smiled and rose to embrace me. It was a smile I rarely saw over the years, one that only appeared when he was truly relaxed and happy. His brow unfurled, and his narrowed eyes opened like shades, emitting light and warmth—a guarded oasis that gave life to such beautiful songs.
We spoke for what felt like a long time, communicating through visions and expressions. He showed me pieces of a puzzle that helped me see the larger picture of our relationship. Most of this I will keep between us, but I will cherish it. However, he did want me to tell you to stop putting the initials in his name—he prefers it as JD.
Though you and I only met in passing, I’ve read your blog for years and can see the similarities between you and JD. A thinker, often a curmudgeon, one who says the things most people don’t want to hear—but most importantly, someone who is, at their core, moved by the power of music.
I’m glad we connected along the way, Bob. I appreciate how you wrote about JD.
All the best,
Bradford
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I spent the day trying to process the loss of JD Souther, who passed away September 17th, alone at his home outside Albuquerque. I met JD in 1970, soon after I moved from north Texas to Los Angeles and lived in an apartment above Golden West studio in Hollywood. It was down the street from the office of Amos Records, headed by Jimmy Bowen. JD and Glenn Frey were signed to that label as a duo, Longbranch Pennywhistle. Also on that label were my friends from North Texas State University, Jim Ed Norman and Don Henley. Their band was Shiloh, which also included Richard and Mike Bowden and Al Perkins. I saw JD and Glen perform at the Troubadour, and was impressed and inspired by their music, a country/folk mix which would now be labeled Americana, with strong songwriting and harmony singing. It was the music I was drawn to, having moved to Los Angeles as a fan of the Flying Burrito Brothers and Poco. I formed a group called Uncle Jim’s Music and we were produced by John Boylan, who had been producing Linda Ronstadt’s records. JD and Linda were living together at this time and we would go to Linda‘s house to hear our rough mixes because John’s favorite speakers were there. By 1972 Glenn Frey and Henley formed the Eagles and had immediate amazing radio success, and my band split up and I played bars around LA until I moved back to Texas in 1973. I didn’t see JD for years until he moved to Nashville, we renewed our friendship and attempted to write a few songs. It was great to have him in our circle of friends. Everyone loved his wonderful songs and singing, and he did some acting in the “Nashville” TV series. He eventually sold his place in Nashville and moved to Sandia Park outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico. In 2022 I spent some time with him there, just hangin out and catching up, not seriously trying to write songs. He told me about his musical family, that his dad was a great big band style singer and had a music store in Amarillo. The last time I saw him was when he came to perform at the Franklin Theater. I don’t know anything more about the cause of his death except that he was alone and his housekeeper found him. My hope is that he didn’t suffer. Our common friend Jack Tempchin had spoken to him recently and said that he had sat in at an Eagles show, and had played a solo show only five days before he passed. JD was a sweet friend to me and was generous in acknowledging my songwriting, and I of course was a huge fan of his iconic compositions that have become a part of our culture. It may not be known by some that JD played drums, saxophone and piano as well as guitar. He had a defined compositional style all his own and a broad harmonic imagination, with that beautiful vocal delivery. I’m so proud to have known him through the years, he will be missed by many, and his contribution to American music will live on. I remember loving his first record so much, and all that followed. I recommended a deep dive into his recordings for everyone who loves expertly crafted songs and beautiful singing. Deepest condolences to his family in Amarillo and his ex-wife Sarah and her daughter whom he loved dearly. Rest in peace our gifted friend.
Gary Nicholson
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From: Jack Tempchin
Thanks for writing about him. You wrote things no one else wrote.
I met JD and Glenn long before they were famous. JD and I were very close friends for about 54 years.
Always a fascinating guy and a deep river....
I loved every minute I ever spent with him.
We wrote very few songs together....One was called "One More Chance To Break My Heart Again" and was recorded by Trisha Yearwood.
I wrote this the day he died, it's not much but it made me feel a little better....
another door closed forever.
Jack
FOR J.D.SOUTHER
ME AND YOU
2024-09-17
I know you can’t go back again
but sometimes it’s nice
to remember when
we smoked some joints
and played guitar
and for a minute
the world was ours
we never said
words like love
but the angels smiled on us
from above
every moment was forever
in the songs we’d sing
I guess back then
we had everything
we saw each other
every day
but you know how time
just slips away
and our lives change
as the river flows
and the years they come
and the years they go
Still I called you just
the other day
and I said I Iove you
in my way
and we said hey lets get together again
and we laughed the way we did back then
But the chance is gone
and the world is blue
and there is nothing I can do
but just remember
me and you
Those good old times
Old friend of mine
when it was me and you
--
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