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Our time passes by and we
hardly have time for the chorus,
While singing the verses and doing the things here before us,
A symphony, jingle, or maybe a song sung by Doris,
By end of the day, there is not enough time for the chorus.
We hear all the words,
but we don't comprehend what they're saying,
Because we are busy in doing the things they are playing,
Like notes on the page, so unconsciously working and paying,
We hear all the music, but don't have the time for the
swaying.
No time for the chorus,
just working to make a small living,
No time for the chorus and wishing that life was more giving,
We sing all the verses, but do it with so much misgiving,
No time for the chorus, no time to just celebrate
living.
If I could play music,
I'd play only those for the dancing,
Reserving my time for relaxing and some for romancing,
Exploring the planet, its people, with waltzing and prancing,
If I could play music, I'd play only those for the
dancing.
If I could write music,
I'd write only words for the chorus,
For things that are solid, that matter, not things that are
porous,
Like time spent with friends and with loved-ones; the trees, not
the forest,
If I could write music, I'd write only words for the
chorus.
No time for the chorus,
just working to make a small living,
No time for the chorus and wishing that life was more giving,
We sing all the verses, but do it with so much misgiving,
No time for the chorus, no time to just celebrate
living.
The song will be over
before we can even get started,
The end of the song is when time on this earth has departed,
Let's sing out the chorus and music that hasn't been
charted,
It's time for the chorus, for those who are brave, not
fainthearted.
No time for the chorus,
just working to make a small living,
No time for the chorus and wishing that life was more giving,
We sing all the verses, but do it with so much misgiving,
No time for the chorus, no time to just celebrate
living.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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