The Tim Buckley Archives



Songs never sung

"He would write on hotel pads and things, cocktail napkins, tissues. He would grab something out of my purse if he had an idea, a line or a couple of lines.

"When he got home and clicked into that mode, he would gather up all these little bits and pieces. He would play his guitar, I would hear him vamping repeatedly on a piece, really focused and trying things out..."

Judy Buckley Llewellyn

I can't love you like Sunlite

the radio is playing
& and the bed is unmade
the cards are on the table
by a glass of lemonade

I can't love you like Sunlite
in the heat of July
I can't burn on so brightly
now that we've said goodbye


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