Days. Weeks. Months. Years.
Some filled with laughter, some with tears.
Time exposes all our fears
To friends and foes the same.
Years. Months. Weeks. Days.
The sinner sins just as he prays.
Count the answers, count the ways
There are to play the game.
The clock is ticking, ticking down
Toward our last homes in the ground
There’s no mystery hiding in its face
Just apathy for the human race.
Distractions.
So many distractions.
Phones and drones and politics.
Distractions.
So many distractions.
Too many problems to fix.
With every tick and every tock
We see our enemy: the clock
Is counting down until the time
When all our time’s run out,
And as you count down every breath
And wonder if there’s peace in death
You look back on your life
And wonder what it was about.
What’s the point? What’s the reason
For the weather or the seasons
Or planets coming together in a line?
And if you had infinite youth
Would there be time to learn the truth
Or will you run from all the answers you might find?
Meaning’s in the eye of the beholder
Are we all but meaningless?
All I know is I grow older
And I find I’m dreaming less.