GETTING THERE (E G D G B E, capo 4)
Who is she, standing there, with a flower in her hair?
Who can say? Who can know? Who will stay? Who will go?
Who is she, asking why, with her hands to the sky?
Will the stars call her name? Will she still feel the same?
The clouds roll in, she doesn’t care.
Happy here, getting there.
Who is he, old and grey, sitting in the sun all day?
What does he say? What does he know? When it gets dark where does he go?
Who is he, on the beach, looking out to sea?
Will the ocean tell him why? Will he laugh? Will he cry?
A big wave comes but he’s not scared.
He’s happy here, getting there.
Who am I, on the grass, with my chai and my guitar?
Where am I supposed to be? Is anyone expecting me?
The wind picks up and blows the towels.
The ladybugs roll around.
I’m not surprised but I’m not prepared.
Happy here, getting there.
Happy here, getting there.
Getting there.
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