Lost time, I feel it drags me under, life just cast asunder. I always look but can never get it back. In the mean time, I’ll just sit and wonder, what lies befor me yonder but hindsight being something that I lack.
Past time, I seem to be getting nowhere, thinking I’d be somewhere. A share in life I don’t get my fair. Bide time, don’t pretend you’re passed caring, no need for despairing. It’ll come it’s just a small cross to bare.
Downtime, right upon the hour, I’ve only half an hour. Better get it in before it’s gone for good. Hard time, efforts been devoured the mood has just been soured. You would give it up but I don’t think you could.
Our time, is spent anticipating. How long have we been waiting? I’m not wise but someone’s watching over me. My time is coming down with symptoms, I’ll work it out me system. I need a cure to set my lost soul free.
High time, well that ideas novel. I spend it in a bottle, writing love and of all the things I lack. So for the last time I’ll speak unnecerssary, don’t go handing me your pity. I could talk but only matter of fact.
Preying on my soul, heart without a home. Hand me round the peace time. Then I’ll answer to the critic, who believes my heart aint in it. They can’t tell it’s my life that’s preying on my soul. I’ll make it on my own.