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