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It was a mild and lively evening at the end of May |
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I had run out for one quick coffee at the corner cafe |
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I must have looked a little tense and over-worked, I guess |
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'Cause this old man leaned in and said: |
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"My darling, what's the stress? |
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Come sit, come have a moment's rest |
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Your work is nothing worth unless |
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Your mind is calm and clear and at its best" |
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And he went on: |
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"To everyone who's running faster every day," he said |
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"To everyone who's not found peace and indepence yet and |
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To everyone who thinks that life is where they're headed to |
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Who thinks a better day awaits as soon as they get through |
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These busy years of things to do |
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This wall of greedy cynics who |
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Persuade them to give up their dreams too soon |
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Take your time |
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It's a quarter to forever now |
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Take your time |
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It's a quarter to forever now |
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To everyone who thinks that love was just a dream they had |
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Who thinks tomorrow and the future has nothing new to add and |
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To everyone who's watched their hopes run out and slam the door |
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And everyone who still don't know what they are looking for or |
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Found it and dropped it on the floor |
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Whose hands and arms have gotten sore |
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From holding on too tight to what once was |
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Take your time |
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It's a quarter to forever now |
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Take your time |
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It's a quarter to forever now |
