A snippet of a new song that I wrote called “Bed of Roses.” You asked me to write you a song, and I’m sure this will come out (in some way or form) sometime this year.

Where are you?

Are you thinking of me,

What I’d do,

If I was right next to you?

Where are you?

Are you talking on the phone to someone

Who makes you laugh like I do?

I know we’re miles apart,

Connected only by our beating hearts;

But if I could I would go all the way to be right beside you, baby,

Yeah, I’d go all the way to be right beside you.

‘Cause life is a bed of roses when you’re near,

Nothing compares to having you here;

And after it’s all been said and done,

You’re still my only one,

And I would move mountains just to hold you again,

Just to hold you again —

If I could hold you again in my arms.

Happy Birthday (to me, I suppose).

Today, I’ve come to realise that celebrating birthdays don’t matter to me anymore.

I don’t need a birthday cake to remind me that yet another year has gone by, and I don’t need people expecting me to be at a certain 'place' in my life according to some guidebook on living that has been outdated for the last 50 years or more.

The idea of time is relative, as is change and growth.