Your Hand Still Fits in Mine

Then watched the little minutes pass.
Stay a little, if you can.
Let the quiet take its time.
I have nowhere else to be, and your hand still fits in mine.
The hallway clock is running slow.
Your coat still holds the cold outside.
You tell me what the doctor said,
I listen close and let you hide.
Stay a little, if you can.
Let the quiet take its time.
I have nowhere else to be, and your hand still fits in mine.
When morning finds the empty cup and buses start along the square,