The Time Bends in the Distance
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The Time Bends in the Distance

A song written by Paul Hall while on the road between Huelva, Spain, and Paris, France in 1980.

Einstein found that light curved in space due to relativity and so might time itself. In this regard, each of us is a traveler as our star, the sun, propels us through the universe at speed. The planet itself can eventually wear out, but the words of correct information are as enduring as road signs for our voyage through the stars.

16kps mp3.

Oh, the time bends in the distance

and my trip is to beyond,

though the sand be mixed

with oil

though they call me a vagabond.

Little flowers keep growing

concrete can't hold them back.

And I'm headed for tomorrow

out beside the railroad track.

Little boy,

don't you loose your place

in your copy book

of time.

The distance that you cover

may coat your back with grime,

but the little birds are singing

so early in the morn

and the people of the town you leave

won't realize you're gone.

Although the time bends in the distance

and my trip is to beyond,

though the sand be mixed

with oil

though they call me a vagabond.

Little flowers keep growing

concrete can't hold them back.

And I'm headed for tomorrow

out beside the railroad track.

Your blue jeans, they were so brand new,

they're fading into rags

and the planet that you're walking on

likewise it shall pass.

But the words that gleam

like shining notes

so early in the dawn,

will beam like guideposts in the night

as you go traveling on.

Although the time bends in the distance

and my trip is to beyond,

though the sand be mixed

with oil

though they call me a vagabond.

Little flowers keep growing

concrete can't hold them back.

And I'm headed for tomorrow

out beside the railroad track.

So I went beyond the gate-posts

of another day,

I said, "The orphan of the wind

is bound to get the way."

And the guideposts,

they are pointing out

the circuit of my flight

as on into tomorrow

I go headed

for tonight.

Although

the time bends in the distance

and my trip is to beyond,

though the sand be mixed

with oil

though they call me a vagabond.

Little flowers keep growing

concrete can't hold them back.

And I'm headed for tomorrow

out beside the railroad track.

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