So Much Time

Where is the former of myself

it would be better if we switched

to exponentiate the evolution

of my common sense

Is there a goose inside my head

that lays an egg with every lie

I would reciprocate in dissipation

of my bold pretense

I

would rather fold myself

than to go with what i'm told

I

only see what has been left

by a man who's worlds been sold

Leaning back while the distance got much closer

smiling at my front row seats

should this is where i'm supposed to be

then what's my excuse for killing so much time

Some crosses that we built to stand

to signify the strength that we

would underestimate though regardless

how've we've planned ahead

The singing clock chimes on the twelve

farewell I bid to better halves

the insignificance would levitate

with thoughts in my head

I

would rather fall across

the floor a clown than of a saint

I

am bottled up in my faith

with prejudice my grace awaits

Leaning back while the distance got much closer

smiling at my front row seats

should this is where i'm supposed to be

then what's my excuse for killing so much time

I am the cunning in the lines

of which that separates the truth

from animosity and differentiate

the living from the dead