Lyrics:

This waiting here for a bus is
almost better than its coming.
Every day it always does
as I daydream and kick some dirt
or throw a rock or check my watch
and catch my reflection.
And it barely makes an impression
in the never-ending present.

This working from the inside out,
this stepping to the easel,
is gonna run you into results,
then there's the materials:
to see a world beyond your shoes
reflected in the polish and see some images
of truth beautifully demolished.
And it barely makes an impression
on the never-ending present.

Steel yourself against the cold
or look for semi-precious shade.
When the bus crests that hill,
Love and hate are just the same.
Watching as the money drops,
every day it always does.
Maybe there's a song in here.
No, and in fact, there never was.
Just a little expression
in the neverending present.

Just me doing my impression
of the never-ending present.