The days in August felt like rolling highway hills
and in those days I found myself
chained to a handful of wills

These days liked to crawl by
and I held onto the rope they trailed behind
hoping the momentum would tug me forward
but it all happened so slowly, I wondered
If I was in motion at all

August left on all the lights
and I followed behind her heat and turned them off
Simply believing I was doing what was right
but she kept on and I didn't mind because
I knew she was nearly out of time

So I tried to determine if I was an actor
in these days
or some type of spectator, distant and far away

August mornings felt like a fog
and I waited all afternoon for it to dissipate
but when it did
all I was left with
was an empty night
surrounded by unwanted lights

So I tried to hold on to the morning fog
I wrapped it around me
like a winter coat
and held onto those mornings
and tried to grip August Days

and when each morning left in a haze
faster than the morning before
I realized that the tighter I held on
the more distant I became
and I thought that holding with all my strength
would bring me back
when all along I knew,
I just needed to release these days
and it was something I just couldn't do.