shorteyes

No matter how bright the sun shines you still cant see time. Even as the minute hands you your future it runs from the second whose hands are confined to a race around repetition, and on the wall around our lack of ambition we stare At times finite rendition and ever so politely ask ourselves What the hell is missing? Now the hours are kissing while the days are making love of course you could have joined in this orgiastic passing but grasping your coyness you sit back and stroke it, passively observing the conception of a brand new year. In the mean time our voyeurism gives birth to a brand new fear, because whos here to raise this child if were all just watching whats missing Whats missing? Dad never had the time, moms time is almost up so the hours can kiss her fate goodbye. Shit, Ive been watching so long I couldnt participate if I tried. And whoever said time is on our side must have never been kissed, or maybe he has too much on his wrist and not enough on his hands. Because as I slip through the sands I see mine to find only pain and suffering, while time heals nothing.
Tic-talk-tic talk-tic talk myself in circles and end each sentence with ellipses. Dont ask that empty space on the wall any questions because no matter how good the glimpse is, time will never tell. And spend your time wisely because it remembers so well. So no matter how high the ledge, or what shoes you buy, youll never fall fast enough to run out of time.
And we still have a hard time getting it right, yeah it might be cool to smoke, ok to kill, boring to learn, and hard to write, but when will it be time to go, because we sure as hell dont have time to stop drop the goal, were never going to catch the clock.

I just hope that when our time comes were on time, because thats where I want to be when my, time is up.

die...