I say you run too fast
For you, the hill will always be there
Up and down, music precedes you 
Maybe you are following the sound
But it determines your path
Right now I cannot catch up. 

I say that movement you hear is old
I have heard it often as a sad lament
I enjoyed any distraction 
That took me away from it 
But to you it gyres splendidly 
And you fear only its final tone

I say nothing concludes, you know
It is cool in the morning and
You feel like running
Away and to the left you arrive 
Breathlessly bent over, sweating,
Thinking you have outrun everything 

I think here is a good idea 
Go above the street, look down 
And see the grain of the place
Look how polished and clear 
I say it is a blessing to be still
In the song of a fast world.