Toast To Probability

To the love of time Which never reach it's prime Moving forward and backward More in a dazzling zig-zag inward To the purest expectation With little or no adaptation Filming enjoyment without bill More like free breezes on hill To the lust of the tongue Which roast for the young But has forgotten that hanger Is hotter than mere real hunger To the eyes steering at the moon With less energy flying out soon May be it would catch up with it Or miss it-- a more shameful hit To the fear of trial That energizes denial And makes sure the absence Is reckoned seeing its affluence To the upcoming regret What daily report beset Telling the story of sorry Maybe that won't drive my lorry