The world has all the time
All the time in the world
But there's no time left
In this broken hourglass
Sand so dear is cast like cheap dust to the wind
A wailing guitar in the background
Lamenting as only an artist can lament
With vodka's wisdom parsing the situation
Everything let loose is compacted and compounded for maximum effect
We make plans and we lay plans
With time kept in mind
But time has its own mind, and it is capricious
The best laid plains of mice and men, indeed
There's a crack in the heart's of these
And all that was once certain to them is pouring out
They struggle to stopper the loss
But it all just seeps through tightly pressed fingers
All the time in the world
But time's run out
Ex Tempore LIV
M.M. — 29-Jun-2013
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