| Gently rolling father time
|
| Is calling to him now,
|
| And though he hears him
|
| He looks out to sea.
|
| Somewhere out there lie his dreams
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| A story with no ending
|
| And till he finds his answers
|
| He won’t be going nowhere
|
| For him, it’s not too late
|
| It’s not too late
|
| For some it’s never too late
|
| Quietly knocking on her door.
|
| He patiently stands waiting,
|
| And though she hears him
|
| She sits steadfast in her chair.
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| Somewhere out there never seen
|
| Her hopes and dreams lie waiting,
|
| And till she finds an answer
|
| She won’t be going nowhere
|
| For her, it’s not too late
|
| It’s not too late
|
| For some it’s never too late
|
| For everything we know that’s certain
|
| There is much we cannot see,
|
| So we choose to close the curtain,
|
| Never knowing what could have been
|
| It’s not too late, it’s not too late, never too late
|
| Slowly rocking the baby’s bed
|
| He strokes it’s head and whispers
|
| And though it hears him,
|
| It keeps smiling and kicks it’s feet
|
| Somewhere out there is a life,
|
| A lifetime made for living
|
| So it holds on fast, it ain’t going nowhere
|
| For some it’s not too late,
|
| It’s not too late
|
| For some it’s never too late
|
| For some it’s not too late
|
| It’s not too late
|
| For some it’s never too late |