Ticking, tock. There goes the clock.
Racing, running, and rattling about.
Can't do a **** thing to make it stop.
Chase it, cherish it, throw it all away.
Clinging, climbing, begging it to stay.
Past, the here, the now, and the soon.
The forevers, the memories, and the goodbyes.
Constantly ticking, passing by, with one foul swoop.
Swept up in ephemeral moments, fleeting, and free.
Fear in the eyes for all these goodbyes will never come again.
Can't go back, can't take it back, stacked against all odds.
Pleading, needing, begging to be transported back in time.
Can't do a **** thing to make it stop.
The hands dance along that big, round clock.
Slow it down, speed it up, yet nothing can control this clock.
Blocked by a moment in time, wanting to rewind.
Only forward we can go, sadly passing by those once known.
We said our goodbyes, can't be said again.
Can't slow it down or speed it up, can't do anything to stop that clock.
One foot in front of the other, stride by stride.
An entire life is just a memory of time.