A song written by me, Paul Hall, by a railroad track in a cafee one morning in Montpellier, while on the road between Huelva, Spain, and Paris, France in 1980. Einstein found that light curved in space due to relativity and so might time itself. In this regard, each of us is a traveler as our star, the sun, propels us through the universe at speed. The planet itself can eventually wear out, but the words of correct information are as enduring as road signs for our voyage through the stars. Lyrics: Oh, the time bends in the distance and my trip is to beyond, though the sand be mixed with oil though they call me a vagabond. Little flowers keep growing concrete can’t hold them back. And I’m headed for tomorrow out beside the railroad track. Little boy, don’t you loose your place in your copy book of time. The distance that you cover may coat your back with grime, but the little birds are singing so early in the morn and the people of the town you leave won’t realize you’re gone. Although the time bends in the distance and my trip is to beyond, though the sand be mixed with oil though they call me a vagabond. Little flowers keep growing concrete can’t hold them back. And I’m headed for tomorrow out beside the railroad track. Your blue jeans, they were so brand new, they’re fading into rags and the planet that you’re walking on likewise it shall pass. But the words that gleam like shining notes so early in the dawn, will beam like guideposts in the night as you go traveling on …