I wondered if we'd live it slow
I wonder every day I grow,
what's the deal with living fast?
life is finite
it will not last.

In that shop atop of harbour hill
they still show prices in old money
it seems that time just passed them by,
it's funny,
but it makes me cry.

Feeling that an even keel is the only
way to bring to heel the
fast and loose,
we fashion nooses from the castaways
and hope for longer days
or longer lives and shorter days or
maybe longer nights, better lives, shorter
wives, taller men and never satisfied
I write it all again,
in my head this time.