The past is gone It's all right though, We can use the future For the present isn't enough, It goes by to fast Even the first verse, At this moment is behind us.
Time... Why does it consume us so? It rules our day, It consumes us, In every moment, It's never enough, Never too much, Always go by too fast, How much time is left? Approximate is all we have.
Yet that's future talk, It always eats away towards the end, Fixates us in a breaking moment, Forces us to move and do quickly, Or slow and tranquil, But yet it's always followed, By a set of digits that counts, Zero...
In future, past and present, Time is our daemon, That eats away our spontaneous thoughts, That creeps into the day, And enforces the night.