Stumbled to the fact It is the moment you act Is the movement, But the second you react it is where you stumble start your grumble. A quiet, dusty tumble, Where doubt's seed, Begins to humbly fumble. Tried to the thought all the things that you got it's all forgotten lot.
Rushed to the plea, a whispered decree, a silent notion, but the instant you see, it's a fragile illusion, lost in confusion. Yearned for the hold, a story untold, a future grown cold. Finding copper in gold all that we get sold Indeed we are getting old.