Time for me
Time for me; it runs on a fucked up clock,
all the while trapped inside some sinewed up block.
An endless array of dates runnin' 'round and 'round.
No numbers in sight—hands in subsonic flight.
How is one such as I to rebound?
Rise and shine, time once agains to dine.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner? It's hard to tell.
It's all a blur in this old sinner.
Catch a nap, grab a shower, is there time?
My mind's about to snap—why'd I invent this rhyme?
Time for me hangs on the zringer of insanity,
Civil unrest; madness quickly spreading inside of me.
Slippin', slidin' across the region's bloody edge,
Who'll be so kind in time, to give that subtle
shove over life's slippery edge?
David "Six" Bauguess
November 25, 2013
2022 jul 11
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2021 oct 11
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2021 aug 4
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2021 apr 30
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2021 jan 6
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2020 oct 1
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