Time's a butterfly,
A lovely illusion,
Ready to fly away.
He had searched but couldn't find
A reason to stay.
Time holds a gun
But it waits until all the damage is done.
She held his hand but she couldn't stand
Those dead eyes.
Time is a little spark
But we're still grabbling in the dark
So she pours another drink into
her poor little heart.
Time's pulling us down
Deep, deep, deep, cold underground
She shivers inside, pale as a doll
Compelled to say goodbye.
Time is not a cure
All its charms are misunderstood.
She's twitching to the sound
of his last words.
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