Could man be drunk for ever
With liquor, love, or fights,
Lief should I rouse at morning
And lief lie down of nights.

But men at whiles are sober
And think by fits and starts,
And if they think, they fasten
Their hands upon their hearts.

Say, lad, have you things to do?
Quick then, while your day's at prime.
Quick, and if 'tis work for two,
Here am I man: now's your time.

Send me now, and I shall go;
Call me, I shall hear you call;
Use me ere they lay me low
Where a man's no use at all;

Ere the wholesome flesh decay
And the willing nerve be numb,
And the lips lack breath to say,
"No, my lad, I cannot come."

Once upon a time,
I had a story I could tell.
But, now the facts have changed
and as I suppose its just as well.

For you see, I say my story
it is one of scattered dreams.
And, I was looking for an ending
that would sew up all the seems.

But, somewhere in the patchwork,
in the throw rug of my mind,
there was a loose thread
that I just could never find.

So, when it comes to taking action
you know why I won't take part.
For, all it takes is one good tug
and my patchwork comes apart.

I should've known
When you said your least favorite part of the ocean
were the waves,
That you wouldn't be there for me
When I crashed.

Winter was our prime,
Now summers not our time,
How much it hurts to know,
That your heart was never mine.

She was constantly shedding flowers,
Falling from locks of hair,

People always stepping on them,
As they didn't see them there.

They always say
an artist's time
is late at night
or early morning
but mine
mine is now
evening,
night,
day,
bright,
sunny,
snowy,
rainy.
Our times are now.
Make the most of them.