A stranger does not know me, know more do I know him,
To me he could, to him I could be, anyone or anything.
He doesn't know the road I've walked, as he steps by me on the path,
I don't know where he's traveled in the near or distant past.
He's never tried to let me down, I've never played him at his games,
He's never whispered sad goodbyes we've not burned with loving flames.
We haven't sat for hours talking, laughed or danced, spent long days walking.
The paradise of strangers.
He had know reason to be kind,
He didn't know the secrets or the sin that he could find.
Every stranger has a thousand stories, that I will never know,
In my mind, I can decide. He loves, he trusts, cares, lets it show.
I feel I could almost run a mile,
For the paradise of a stranger, a strangers empty smile.