running by the seaside where the foam fizzles like sparks
where the imprints in the sand Time has left
in a great, furious hurry, oh  how those days recollect
the late, late nights with the air soft like a pillow
soothing to the soul as it whispered
where the cuts laid in too deep,
Time, oh Time, where have you gone
with the crunch of gravel underneath my feet
and the pump in my arms, the twist in my spine
as I sprinted down the shoreline,
yet you always stayed out of my reach
the sun was beginning to set,
its golden fingers licking the water
and the salty, brittle air buffered in my eyes
so by the labor of my lungs tears sprung in my eyes
Time, you marvelous hypocrite, I can never get
the hold of your hands