written by David Crosby and Dean Parks
I come through here quite often
and I think about you
I come through here quite often
and I wonder what you do
a wrong turn at the corner
I could say I got lost
a confusion of memories
where two streets crossed
the vision I remember
is eyes through the steam
coming off the coffee
and rising off the cream
and I don’t even know you
and I don’t mean to stare
but I know what you’re thinking
I can see that you dare to
care about people
and look into their lives
as you hand them a spoon
as you polish the knives
you reach out and touch one
every once in a while
with off handed wisdom
or a lop-sided smile
now they say don’t talk to strangers
I say, «why the hell not»
if you don’t talk to strangers
tell me what have you got?
a world without wisdom
a life without laughs
a season of lonliness
and friendships in halfs
do you care about strangers
and look into their lives
their sons and their daughters
their husbands and wives
so I come here for coffee
and I watch your face
to see secret kindness
and watch quiet grace