(verse) Morning comes through borrowed glass, Dust turning slowly in the light, Another train, another name, Another day disguised as night. The clocks all speak in measured tongues, They tell us where we ought to be, But no one asks who wound them up, Or what they want from you and me. (chorus) And the hours fall away, One by one without a sound, We keep building little walls On a turning piece of ground. We say there’s time, We say there’s time, As if time ever waits around. (verse) A man counts coins beneath the rain, A woman stares into a screen, A child looks up and asks the sky If anything is what it seems. We trade our days for numbered things, For rooms, for roads, for borrowed air, Then lie awake at three a.m. And wonder how we ended there. (chorus) And the hours fall away, One by one without a sound, We keep building little walls On a turning piece of ground. We say there’s time, We say there’s time, As if time ever waits around. (bridge) Maybe the world is not a race. Maybe there is nowhere to arrive. Maybe all the noise we make Is how we prove that we’re alive. Maybe the silence knows our names. Maybe the dark is not the end. Maybe every road we lose Comes back around a different bend. (guitar solo) (verse) Evening gathers in the glass, The city dims from gold to grey, Somewhere a radio keeps talking Long after no one hears what it says. The clocks go on. The lights go out. The sky remains above the town. And for a moment, nothing asks For anything from anyone. (chorus) So let the hours fall away, Let them vanish without sound, We are brief and we are here On a turning piece of ground. (outro) There may be time. There may be time. But we don’t have to chase it down.
