Under the bright blue sky,
I lolled watching the clouds float by.
Wandering amongst countless thoughts, wondering why,
O why is it that time does fly?
Amid the droll existence of life,
hour after hour of misery and strife.
To just one question we eventually arrive,
O why is it that time does fly?
Ill thoughts we think and curses we shout,
jealousy, anger, and spite rearing their ugly mouth.
Too late it is when you begin to doubt,
O why is it that time does fly?
Demons in head, reflecting thoughts hazy,
numbing mind, making the body go lazy.
In times such as these the question seems easy,
O why is it that time does fly?
Futile attempts to scry the future.
Hoping to redeem a life sewn by suture.
Questioning the past once the present’s a caricature,
O why is it that time does fly?
Dark clouds rumbling and blanketing the sky.
Cold, biting wind raking the land dry.
With a jolt I awoke, and wonder with a smile wry,
O why is it that time does fly?
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