My family and I went to live in Portugal a few years ago. I had heard tell of how well musicians could do in Europe, but it wasn't all a walk in the park by any means. One night I had a last minute gig to do 50 km away from where we were living. I drove to Sagres, did the gig and came back again to Silves. Sagres is close to 'the end of the world' the most westerly point of mainland Europe.
At the time I was borrowing a car, since ours was playing up, and the whole endeavour felt a little risky to say the least. No roadside cover, miles away from anyone who knew me, out on a limb. Nothing could eclipse the magic of the perfumed night time in Southern Portugal, but parts of it were just surreal. Normal things can look a lot weirder when they're looming up out of the darkness in your headlights than they do in the daytime.
There was nothing for it but to put the good tunes on and hope that all would be well.
I was very pleased when I made it back and this song wrote itself in about fifteen minutes when I got back.
To The End of the World
by Tim Wakefield
On a lonely highway, the most dangerous road in all Algarve,
Perfumed night air, stars shining, lighting my way there,
Stars shining, lighting my way there.
A silent garden of statues, dark gas stations,
Endless roundabouts. Not much traffic on the road
To the end of the world,
To the end of the world.
From Silves to Sagres. Such a long way to go.
From Sagres to Silves, singing my way home...
Singing my way home.
Lagos is full of high rises, so is Portimao.
In the darkness and the orange neon, well,
It's hard to see how it ever could.
It's hard to see how.
From Silves to Sagres... such a long way to go.
From Sagres to Silves... singing my way home.
Singing my way home.