The Band   Bytes  


Faces walking around,
Are trying to be free,
Stepping without a sound,
This thought occurs to me.
The time machine,
To go forward or go backward,
I'd go ask H.G. Wells,
But it makes me feel too bashful.
Who is still sleeping?
When I just want to wake up?
The alarm clock bothers me
And doesn't want to stop.
The second hand moves,
But never does the third,
There's no such thing as this,
For time is so secured.
Learn that the beat,
That plays inside of you,
It is a pounding drum kit,
That your body needs to use.
Seconds are like minutes,
It's 12 o'clock sharp,
There's never a dull moment,
Like in full or like in part.

©1999-2018 Steve Bujanow

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