What to do with time that may last minutes or years
No way to talk about regrets with anyone who you once knew
Listening to young people talk about the pain of the living
If they only knew how time is so precious and what it can do

Fallen trees, food for the god’s that roam underneath our feet
Broken stone fences, dividing land once known for its welcome
Hope, as wispy as dandelions, blown about by our misgiving
The wings of Falls colors, flutter as the winter cold beckons

What we fail to see are the ways to be what they missed
To know the moon follows a setting sun is the beginning of time
How many times can it be that a chance passes to be forgiving
But to act our age is to allow time to commit another crime