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in my arms
in my mind
in my focus
and life

time is a villain
to the beautiful
every second
squeezing drops
of life
and love
and hope

leaving dust
and withered husks
as it passes without guilt
or sign of remorse

secretly it knows
without it
existence is a motionless stamp
never reaching
never growing
never getting to say
'I love you'
or 'Goodbye'
or 'Hello again'
never getting to get past
get ahead
or get lost
in her eyes

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The following comments are for "That Bastard, Time"
by rancidsauce

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