time is no realer than money, cash - credit - or debit.
defined between lines lies the meaning of where we all heading.
and where we all been but the house of other men,
other women, teaching us life and its element.
gotta learn to speak for myself and not for the man,
for everything i'm not is also everything i am.
and everything i wish is just a thought waiting for life.
they say the struggle pay the price while debating for the strife.
they say ... many things ... but what is it you think?
what is it you see between the moments that you blink?
the line between a dream and a reality is thin,
stand back far enough and the two become one thing.
like a needle in a haystack, we're lost without our minds.
like an anachronism, we're lost within our time.
searching, searching, searching ... but for what and do we know?
is it even something that our pupils can behold?