Time In Hand

There's an old man with a watch in his hand Laying by a beach where there's grass and no sand and he yells: ... O lord! whatcha doin' to me! Aren't the last minutes for free? Aren't the last minutes for free... Now old man with his frown on his back keeping eyes dry but his smile on attack He doesn't move a word but he says out of line and his watch just ticking and talking of time Tick was it you that held that door Tock I don't remember what the seconds are for Tick did you find if love was sublime Tock old man why you wasting, why you wasting my rhyme and he yells: O lord! whatcha doin' to me! Every moment keeps on passing like the stings of a bee and the wasp are closing in and there wasting their prime what sin have I commited to be paying such crime Listen old man there ain't a thing you've done Even spiders weave webs when they have become un-spunned and with every counting numerical suggestion you just ask for an answer When you don't even know what question you're after Now There's an old man with a watch in his hand Laying by a beach where there's grass and no sand and he yells: O lord! whatcha doin' to me! Aren't the last minutes for free? Aren't the last minutes for free...