Tempo of rhyme that has a distinct
             taste of perpetual numbness.
Where the rhythm of our moments
 counted down in  numeric breathes.

Antiquated concepts as in the fluidic
                         verses of where we are,
                                      Where we were,
                              and our culmination.
Momentary between noise and silence.

We are all constructs of visible passing,
within all are finite chimes
                     in the existence in eternity.
The chimes of passing never really ring,
        But shatter within, ending our time.