Sitting

on a park bench,

in the afternoon,

in the early morning gloom,

in the dead of night,

And what am I waiting for?

 

Sitting

at a bus stop,

in the twilight stars,

with the passing cars,

in the sway of time,

And what am I waiting for?

 

It comes, it dawns,

In the voice of my own guitar.

Listen, to the breeze,

In a whisper from afar.

 

And won't you join me here,

In this place?

Won't you pass the time with me,

Come lose the race,

And hang with time,

In a dream,

Hang with time,

In a dream.

 

Sitting

in a willow,

In the autumn wind,

With a new found friend,

In the joy of here and now,

And what are we laughing for?

 

It comes, it dawns,

In the harmony of your song,

Listen, to the breeze,

In a whisper from afar.

 

And won't you hang with time,

Breathe and listen to the rhyme,

And we will lose the race,

Living at a separate pace.

Living beyond the hurried race,

Living as one with our race,

In the willow tree,

hang

with me.

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