Watchers of the times...
We are not special, we are not bold, we are not young, we are not old. We're watchers of the times, we see and comment, we're watchers of the times, we even pay our rent. We give advice where it is due, we look at the ages and comment, like fools. We're lost in a zone of un-neediness, and we wonder why we're lost like the rest. There are to some, a needy few, who live in the moment, as if it were glue, and reminisce about days past, who wonder why those days didn't last. There are lookers to the future, a concept of time, and look at the world and unending crime. Those who spoil and those who dwell, on toil and life and seek to foretell. And then there are those who see what is done, and think nothing of it, and act like they should and live in a bottle of life lost, and mud. So as a watcher, I think it not bad, to see the world and all that it had. To look at the future and not at the past, to dwell on the now and hope that it lasts. For as I sit here and say this to you, I try to get free from all of the glue. I'm not saying that feelings and love won't last, I'm just looking to those who've shown the blast. It's not the greatest thing, to be who I am, I'm a watcher of life, not a doer, wanter or needer of things. For as I sit here wondering who you are, I watch you, closer than realization will tell. And I wonder of life when we all go to Hell.