Minutes

when instant gratification
just isn't fast enough
the sun still heats your morning
the full moon calls your bluff
the saguaro has no answers
the nightingale has been snuffed
you call upon me for wisdom
you don't have the right stuff

momma raised you better
but you go off half cocked
leaving all around you
pretty much shell-shocked
you've been running for miles
just not outside of your block
and you are always racing...
racing against the clock

in the end you loved
exactly what you picked
fate is a lonely hunter
consequence makes you sick
you're in way too deep
fog grows white and thick
the second hand keeps running
as the minutes slowly click

confusionballad

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