Time

There’s never enough time in the day

It does not matter if it’s work or play

The digital clock spins toward the future

The past is held to the present by a flimsy suture

I’ve lost so many memories as I’ve gone through life

It’s like they’ve been cut away by some kind of knife

Since I can’t remember them, they’re lost as lessons learned

They’re a collection of bridges burned

But, every once in awhile I smell their smoke

And it makes me laugh and I start to choke

Maybe some day they will come pouring back

That’ll be the day I fall off the track