Every day, every week, every month, every year;
I try to hold the time in my hands.
But like a mote of dust, they slip through my finger,
reminding me that time will always expand.
Each day, I try to stay true to myself
But my reflection keeps on changing.
Each second I try to live without future in mind,
But my past forever sing me old songs.
I know even my own song will fade away,
like the people who spread rumor,
But until that time come, I continue to lay;
lay down in life oblivious to my future;
in the end, this old song continue to spin through my life.