This waiting here for a bus Is better than its coming Every day it always does I daydream or kick some dirt Or throw a rock or check my watch Or catch my reflection And it barely makes an impression On the never-ending present ♪ This working from the inside out This stepping to the easel Is going to run you into results And then there's the materials Do you see a world beyond your shoes Reflected in the polish? And see some images of truth Beautifully demolished? And it barely makes an impression On the never-ending present ♪ Steel yourself against the cold Or look for semi-precious shade When the bus crests that hill Love and hate are just the same Watching as the money drops Every day it always does Maybe there's a song in here? No, and in fact, there never was Nothing but a little expression From the never-ending present Just me doing my impression Of the never-ending present