Come the time,
Come the time,
It all makes sense
In that finite line.

Is it really that tomorrow never comes,
when have you last experienced today?
we are living in a historical prediction,
one with constant revision,
and relatively blunt precision.

If you choose to discard all that which you have marred,
smudge with thumb into a softer shade,
standing back and admire your piece,
knowing such things helps men die in peace.
ahhh that final fade…
Come the time,
Come the time,
It all made sense,
All is me that is mine.

The temptation to desire,
the desire to abstain.
Fuelling all that burns,
I Must win the game!

Goes the time,
Goes the time
All I made is cents.

All that I have, eats me now.
wraps its lustful tongue
around my dusty neck
living out the rest in goodwill.
Now is the time,
Now is the time,

Now is time!
Now is time!

STOP