These shifting sands never seem
To land up realities
To land up the real my dreams should be
And it's these accursed changes that fly on
A blink, a wince, and then they're gone
And it's a torment, a strange thing to me
For as I find I'm moments away
My tomorrow turns to yesterday
And my chances fly away with the change
Nothing the same, nothing lasts
Changes constant, future, present, and past
As these shifting sands stop, then rearrange