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...
Copyright © Jessica Arteaga | Year Posted 2011
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