Where and how much time? No one knows...
but then again that's how the story always goes...
A tale untold and people unsold...
but everybody knows that everyone gets old...
A friend to talk to, someone to share...
but the unsold masses don't really care...
To find the meaning of love is war...
in which you battle fear to open that door...
The alter might be your resting place...
if you can't finally look them in the face...
But in every woman's heart, I know pain lingers...
gripping with fear, hates burning fingers..
from every little boys fears of the dark...
to every girls fear of a too dark park...

There's a story to be told and masses to be sold...
so tell us quick before you forget and get old....
So we'll all know that almost forgotten tale...
so we'll have something to put in our mail...

But as time goes by, with the ever moving sky...
We'll all be lost, and assigned to have no cost...
but that's the price you pay for being an unsold mass
So never let time fool you and speed on past...

Hop on the gravy train and ride it into the sunset...
Mark your name in stone so no one will ever forget...

01/16/2002

Posted on 01/16/2002
Copyright © 2025 Aaron Howard