Like the sudden bursts of flame that you engender
When you feed a dying fire with twigs
There are episodes I'd rather not remember
Holding focus when my life's been on the skids

Is my hindsight just distortion in a watchglass?
Can I trust the wandering hands of time?
Or the answers might be floating in my scotch glass
If you're tired of your excuses, here are mine

I know there's got to be a price to pay
I'm ready for tomorrow, but it just might be today
I'll be here anyway

Now I'm staring at the city of syringes
Reaching high for some purpose in the sky
As another morning slips between my fingers
I can only hope there's no such thing as time