People hurry by so quickly.
Don’t they hear the melodies.
In the chiming and the clicking.
And the laughing harmonies.

Songs to aging children come.
Aging children, I am one.

Some come dark and strange like dying.
Crows and ravens whistling.
Lines of weeping, strings of crying.
So much said in listening.

Songs to Aging Children Come
Joni Mitchell (1969), Clouds