The distance is ever widened.
The time still marches on.
The lover's gone sick and frightened
our bonds will break anon.

The minutes charge life a hour.
Hours take even more.
The ticking beats grow louder
And marches ever forward.

What is this silly game we play?
This dance of laissez-faire.
No further than a touch we stay,
yet speak we do not dare.

Say none of time and space, my dear.
I will no more of love.
If that is what you truly fear,
silence I’ll keep thereof.