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