We fritter time away and flitter to flurry by like a butterfly once a flutterby to the end of the day
what does it all mean?
The toll of the bell wish, are you well? how are the folks?
We like spokes in a wheel go round and round 'til we feel better fitter flitter butterfly flutterby at the end of the day.
When you're nearing the end and there's no going back and start tidying up what you carry on your back where the memories are stacked like old masters against a studio wall the paint still drips time still slips slowly away at the end of the day.
In the morning when the spots where still fresh and we joined up the dots to see what came next seems a long way away.