He’s no good at timing.
Writes himself, “what’s with nothing rhyming?
I’ve more than paid my dues.”
Time asks, “How you standing?
Knocked you out, how you back to dancing?”
“Guess it’s just what I do.”
Understood for the first time, fading
For a while or forever
Forever may be easier
He’s already walked through a while
Time, please get on his side
Spark his moon with pure sunshine
He writes no-good timing,
“Find the shelf, I’ll take care of rhyming.
You’re more than well past-due.”
Writes, “Time, go fuck your standing.
Come around, I’ll be back to dancing.
It’s what I like to do.”
He’ll be back to dancing.
A black rug and gold sunshine.
We’ll be back to dancing.