14/12/2013

The stickler is you've played not one beat wrong
You never promised me anything
Even sat me down, warned me just how they fall
I knew the odds were I'd never win, yet here I am

It's a half life with you as my quarter back
A daft life

My self-worth measured in text back tempo
It's been two days and eight minutes too slow
Well, there may well be others but I still like to pretend
That I'm the one you really want to grow old with

I've got a schedule to stick to, got a world to keep sweet
You're so much to everyone all the time
Will it ever slow down? Will I ever come first?
The universe contracts to sigh…