It's hard accepting the way the hands on a clock touches others.
While I was chasing my dreams to spoil them, I lost both my grandmothers.
Is there a such thing as wasted time?
The best things in life are usually at the end of of a line.
We cherish it because we'd have to wait again to do it twice.
Maybe that's why God put heaven at the end of life.
I want kids, but I hold off hoping my numbers could be bolder.
Then every time I see my mom, I remember she's getting older.
I put my faith in you, I put my faith in a tick.
Then you and the time disappeared, why do we trust things we can't predict?
What are we waiting for? We all have a day they're wearing black.
Sometimes I stare at clocks & wonder if time is staring back.
We were born into this measurement and forced to adopt.
all of our tears dropping on glass & hands, standing on clocks.