A man down on the corner
carves your name on a grain of rice.
Imagine that,
on a grain of rice,
your name on a grain of rice.
He asked me if I wanted
my name on a grain of rice.
I said, "Hell with the grain.
Can you carve my name
in the sky? Now, that would be nice."
"Then you must meet my brother," says he.
"My brother he can fly a plane.
In great big letters
'cross a pale blue sky,
friend you can read your name."
So I ask him what the price is,
the price for such a thing.
"Just a smile if it makes you smile,
or a song if it makes you sing.”
"Señor, con tantas tus preguntas
de donde vienes y donde vas,
canta, mi compadre.
La vida es la musica y nada más."
So, I'm driving to the airport,
half thought I'd turn around.
Either I'm still young enough
for a magic trick
or getting older and loosing ground.
And there out on the airfield,
I saw what looked to be the very same man.
He helped me in his plane
and said, "What's your name?
And I'll write it the best I can.
But tell me,
don't you find, that people
are made of some pretty strange stuff?
If a grain of rice
can be much too small,
how can the sky be big enough?
"Señor, con tantas tus preguntas
de donde vienes y donde vas,
canta, mi compadre.
La vida es la musica y nada más."