written by David Crosby and Dean Parks







I come through here quite often

and I think about you

I come through here quite often

and I wonder what you do



a wrong turn at the corner

I could say I got lost

a confusion of memories

where two streets crossed



the vision I remember

is eyes through the steam

coming off the coffee

and rising off the cream



and I don't even know you

and I don't mean to stare

but I know what you're thinking

I can see that you dare to



care about people

and look into their lives

as you hand them a spoon

as you polish the knives

you reach out and touch one

every once in a while

with off handed wisdom

or a lop-sided smile



now they say don't talk to strangers

I say, "why the hell not"

if you don't talk to strangers

tell me what have you got?

a world without wisdom

a life without laughs

a season of lonliness

and friendships in halfs



do you care about strangers

and look into their lives

their sons and their daughters

their husbands and wives



so I come here for coffee

and I watch your face

to see secret kindness

and watch quiet grace