Wood And Springs

<p>I thought you knew what is best for me. I couldn't be more wrong. Time's still moving on. It pulls me. It consumes me.</p><p>How can time heal us, and still make my face grow long with age?</p><p>Like a clock with lungs, and it's springs exposed, time heals me, time rusts me. It's hard to believe that wood and springs will age me, and could phase me.</p><p>From here on in it's a one way road for me. My life runs like clock work, and my heart tick days away.</p><p>So here's to the callas that comes with time. May it slowly stop the pain. A round white face with matte black hands. It's fragile, yet can't be broke.</p><p>From here on in it's a one way road for me. My life runs like clock work, and my heart tick days away.</p><p>I could never let go of what I never controlled. I feel it in my bones. All hollow and blistering cold.</p><p>I thought you knew what is best for me. I couldn't be more wrong. I thought you knew what is best for me. I couldn't be more wrong.</p>