It's quiet here, I'm so alone.
In the corner of a life at the end of a road.
I'm old as a creaking board on a rotting porch.
There's no one near to notice, just me alone.

I look around, there's nothing to see,
There's no where to go, no up anymore.
Can't go back, can't see ahead, spin.
Spin like wheels on a wet slab.

Wish I'd been brave in my younger years.
Wish I'd shouted more at five o'clock.
I could have reached higher, piled up more.
It's too late now, who can change the past?

The earth is round, it matters not,
It begins as it ends and it spins on.
Now when moments count
I can't care about the long lost past,
Now when moments count I ask,
"At this one throw has the die been cast?"