Though I fret,
Time still goes on.
There\'s moments I reckon,
Passed faster than they should.
Had I a word with father time,
If I\'m a son of his.
To why I sunk in the yearly sands,
Becoming one with the dunes.
As to where my clutching hands,
As to where my panicking eyes.
As to where my troubled soul,
Brusied and battered in the dark.
Taken and truly beaten from the start.
No chance to reach with my hands,
No chance to see any of the light.
No chance to calm a scared soul.
I am to lay eternal,
Within the dunes of time.