We enter in through automatic doors Into the everyday race across the terminal floor Past the shoe shine, past the magazine stand The winners win a ride, and it all begins again But over in the corner, as we come and go The fiddler's tuning up and tightening his bow 'Cause every day he descends to this maze underground He raises his violin and summons its sound The arias echo down the long tunnel halls He creates a cathedral from the subway walls And a distance light arrives through windows Wrought in melodies that we had long forgotten So who has the money or the time to waste, oh To drop a dollar in this old instrument's case Backed with billboards of panoramic views Illuminate new ways to make old wishes true And as these dreams and deadlines take us by the eyes Into our aching ears, the fiddle softly cries: "Have you ever seen the still moon in the middle of the day? Or felt the raindrops falling might be calling you astray?" Come away to the window, hear a song so slow From the fiery clouds reflecting on the avenue below Oh, beckoning hope and a sermon of notes and rest with every stroke: "Let the earth be blessed!" So who has the money or the time to stay, oh To stop and listen to this old musician play Who has the money or the time to remain Who can afford to miss the next subway train