The Table

Looking at a table Wondering what type of wood it's made of Wondering exactly which tree gave itself And more importantly Who sat beneath that tree? Which lovers carved initials? What happened on the ground around it? Who walked on the leaves surrounding? And where are those lovers now? Are they still with us? Hopefully Did that tree mean much to them? Was it their place to go in spring? Or summer when the same came out? Autumn walks amongst the leaves I hope they know my table made me Think of them and help me see Much more than just a table The people I won't get to meet At least I got more out of it Than just somewhere to sit and eat Or to converse with someone else Two folks between coffee Now there's two more people sat down On a one sat on the tree Ah Oh-whoa (oh-whoa) Oh-whoa, oh Looking at a stranger Wondering what kind of life have they got Wondering exactly what they're going through And where they're going to What do they care about? And whereabouts do they go out To let loose pre the stressful mornings? Do they feel their job is boring? And do they know how it feels To fall in love uncontrollably? Have they found their purpose or The person that they'd like to be? Around for months on end and spend Days and nights there endlessly I hope they've met someone who gives them Everything they truly need They may just be a stranger But I see strangers constantly We have so much in common And yet not enough for us to speak I watch the stranger walk away They stop and look back at me I can't tell if I'm a stranger Sometimes I feel like the tree Ah Oh-whoa (oh-whoa) Oh-whoa, oh Oh-whoa (oh-whoa) Oh-whoa Oh-whoa (oh-whoa) Oh-whoa Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah-ah