A song about the contemplation of time and change.

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Sandra sits alone in the station
The light has a dim neon glow
The room is hollow with echoes
As travelers come and they go.

She sighs – how it once was so easy
To smile and banish small care –
An image as someone peels an apple,
Split to the core if you dare.


Image vanished in the smoke of the past
Times currents blow the first and the last
Station clock strikes, the hour is passing,
Sounds like a church bell is tolling.


Sandra strikes a match to start smoking
She knows she should not anymore
Smells the sulfur and sees shadows that flicker
Blows it out, drops it to the floor.


Image vanished in the smoke of the past
Times currents blow the first and the last
Minutes dancing in the wake of the hour
Each lost as a wave strikes the shore.


Someone asks if she’s lost or she’s waiting
She trusts no one, she just turns away
Was a time she would smile and would answer
When she was so naive and so gay.


Sandra once filled with laughter and magic
She loved and was loved in return
Family, friends and mysterious strangers
Now ashes in her mantelpiece urn.


Image vanished in the smoke of the past
Times currents blow the first and the last
Dust to dust and scattered in sunshine
Through the fingers grasping at air.

(Break)

Then a voice both coarse and familiar,
Dear, I know you’ve been waiting so long
That’s no matter, she said in a whisper
I’ve been sitting and writing a song


Of how the past is like a vapor
How time is like a wind coming on
Of the sounds and smells of this station
How the travelers have come and have gone.


Of how the past is just like a vapor
How time is like a wind coming on
Of the sounds and smells of this station
How travelers have come and have gone.