Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sound of your life trickling away.
Drip. One year.
Drip. Two years.
You want it to stop,
But it doesn\'t.
You want it to slow down.
But it doesn\'t.
Drip.
When you were young,
It went slow, painfully so.
Drip.
Now you just try to hold on,
To everything you love,
Drip.
As it\'s ripped away,
By time\'s quickened pace.
Drip.
You\'re old now.
You never did find anything,
To dedicate your life to.
Drip.
It\'s empty, worthless, pitiful,
Drip.
And then it\'s gone.