When it all comes trueJust the way you plannedIt's funny but the bells don't ringIt's a quiet thing.
When you hold the worldIn your trembling hand.You think you'd hear a choir singingBut it's a quiet thing.There are no exploding fireworksWhere's the roaring of the crowdsMaybe it's the strange new atmosphereWay up here among the clouds
There won't be trumpets or balls of fireTo say he's coming,No Roman candles, no angel's choirNo sound of distant drumming,He may not be the cavalierTall and graceful, fair and strong,Doesn't matter just as long as heComes along
But not with trumpets or lightning flashingOr shining armor,He may be daring, he may be dashingOr maybe he's a farmer,I can wait, what's another day?He has lots of hills to climbAnd a hero doesn't come tillThe nick of time
Don't look for trumpets or whistles tootingTo guarantee him,There won't be trumpets, but sure as shootingYou'll know him when you see himDon't know when, don't know where,I can't even say that I careAll I know is the minute you turnAnd he's suddenly thereYou won't need trumpetsThere are no trumpetsWho needs trumpets?
Happiness comes in on tiptoeWell what d'ya knowIt's a quiet thing