She bends her will up to my ear
So softly I can hardly hear
Then suddenly it's not unclear
That she intends to play
She plays it high, she plays it low
She plays it cool refined and slow
The way the old musicians know
The truth in what they say
You're not too old to cry
Not too young to be sad
Not too poor to be rich
Not too good to be bad
Not too scared to be brave
Not too right to be wrong
Not too foolish to fool
Not too weak to be strong
Nor too lost to find where you belong
I've always found it hard to comprehend
The meaning of a friend
Intentions always seem to bend beneath
The weight of truth
But somehow I allow myself to take
These words up from her shelf
Collected wisely over time
Much longer than my youth
You're not too old to cry
Not too young to be sad
Not too poor to be rich
Not too good to be bad
Not too scared to be brave
Not too right to be wrong
Not too foolish to fool
Not too weak to be strong
Nor too lost to find where you belong
So come down, on my soul
If I'm right I must go, let me go
Come down, get in my way
But if I'm wrong I will stay
Will compose the questions in my mind
Line them up by place, by time
And still she'll say
You're not too old to cry
Not too young to be sad
Not too poor to be rich
Not too good to be bad
Not too scared to be brave
Not too right to be wrong
Not too foolish to fool
Not too weak to be strong
Nothing's really what apprears
So I'm compelled to wipe these tears
And maybe trust in coming years
I'll find where I belong