if you count all the days
from here to there
minus the ones
that you just sit and stare

the haves and have not's
the never got's
on waves have been tossed
forever lost

the good you have done
when not counting some
they say haste makes waste
when diving in love

and on that note
i clear my throat
and proceed to float

in every beginning and end
there's a middle to them
an overgrown path
that life is lived in

standing around
to say the least
the beauty within
is marked by the beast

before we say it's over
then attempt it again
this looks too familiar
where have we been

*and on that note
i clear my throat
and proceed to float