Lengthy is the sound of forever,
But that’s the time in which I have to fill.
Time to walk. Time to cry.
Time to love. Time to lie.
There’s time to spare, but I’ve got no time.
No time to wait. No time to be.
No time to chase. No time to see.
I’ve got no time to give away.
I’m gone tomorrow, but here today.
Today I’ll live upon her lips.
I’ll close my eyes for every kiss.
Waiting for the time to pass.
for things to change, for that big mess.
Time… a tragic thing.
See time is what we’ve done to ourselves.
It’s simply a measurement of lost chances.
A way to calculate the mistakes we made, or the things we forgot.
“Remember the time? That time when? Do we have time to?”
Time is what was, or what will be.
When you’re standing in a moment. Good or bad.
You don’t think of time. You don’t see the future, or remember the past.
You simply cling to the moment you are in,
Hoping for a better day.
If the moment is good… You wish for one as wonderful.
If it’s bad, you wish for one better.
But you only wish long after the moment has passed.
For in that moment, you are consumed.
And time… time doesn’t exist.
Time is a burden. It’s constricting and selfish.
Time does not care that you are content.
It doesn’t care that you are broken, or need a break.
Time cares not that a minute isn’t enough.
Time forgets how forever feels.
Time is a waste… but a waste of what?