Every fool that falls Fall slightly faster Than the apple on the master Quietly napping by a tree And every time he falls He finds some reason, Some disgraceful mechanism, To get up and fall again Then he will say I'm not going home, Today might be the day I'm coming to the end of something Yes it's early to let go Now the beggar and the lover are Smiling to one another Like they never did before With every winter gone I write a letter And if I was to live forever I would do it all the same It is addressed to some fool in the future One that's older and much looser Just in case he will forget He used to say: I'm not going home, Today might be the day I'm coming to the end of something Yet it's early to let go Now the beggar and the lover Are smiling to one another And saying to themselves I'm not going home, Today might be the day I'm coming to the end of something Yet it's early to let go Now the beggar and the lover Are smiling to one another And singing to themselves