The Slipperiest Slope

i'm slipping, into the future,

seconds turn into seasons

minutes turn into memories

i watch the sand grains fall

who will be there to catch me?

i'm genuinely asking,

it won't be long before the years are gone

but if the hands on the clock were mine,

i'd only have a lot more on my mind

day or night, on the clock or in a dream-

the same eight hours pass

what was once in front of me now lies in my past

my thoughts skip reality,

they won't wait for the present

i can't remember the last,

but i can see them in my rearview

it's all i couldn't believe

and all i only thought i could achieve

so, i'm not really a fan of mirrors

tell me- are knowledge and belief the same thing?

i'm genuinely asking-

because,

what's in my chest, and what's on my mind,

they're not quite the same

will the clock run enough to get them in line?

i'm genuinely asking

half‐full or half‐empty, time can only pour-

how many hours are really left in the glass?

i'm genuinely asking

days of dreams

nights of fears

weeks of war

month by month, memories are written

it won't be long before the years are gone

if continue to slip, into tomorrow,

eventually i will fall into forever

will someone be there to catch me?

i'm genuinely asking