time, that beautiful handmaiden
whispered in my ear:

you gotta get going baby
you gotta get going
death is near

but i’ve got songs to write
sweet melodic words to pen
surely it must be a sin
to die with them within?

then you gotta write baby
you gotta write
get those words down on a page
act them out on the stage

oh time, my sweet, won’t
you love me more?
i’ll pen a phrase, turn a word or two
in honour of your amour

i can’t baby i can’t
you have what time you have
and no more

(knock, knock)

what’s that i hear?

tis death knocking at the door

 – c.lowe